Really Messy Divorces
by KarmellaKitty
Summary: Three women have gone missing under similar circumstances, involving Pumpkin Cheesecake with Two Layers of White Chocolate Creme and a marriage counseling agency, and it's up to Shawn and co. to find them.  Shules! Pineapple! Psych, at your service.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so this is a new fic I've been thinking of, which mainly came from my great love of cheesecake, pumpkin pie, and white chocolate. Anyway, it takes places somewhere between the premiere of Season 5 and Jules going out with Declan. It could also possibly be while Shawn is dating Abigail, but I'm not sure. Review if you like it and want me to continue. The beginning is kind of hectic, but I like it. Not too much action, until we get to the actual case, which really begins next chapter. Also, if you're here to look for obscure '80's references, look elsewhere, because I wasn't alive in the '80's and don't like to spend my time living in the past. No offense to anyone who does.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Psych.

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><p>"Hello, Jules," Shawn greeted the blonde detective as he and Gus walked into the SBPD. "What does the chief want?"<p>

"I don't know, but it sounded serious," Juliet replied, then waved a case folder in front of him. "I think it has something to do with that triple missing persons case."

"Triple missing persons case?" Gus interrupted. "How do you have a triple missing persons case?"

"Well, three people went missing under similar circumstances," Juliet explained. "I think the chief wants you to go and sense something about the - Shawn, what are you eating?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

Shawn looked down at his hand and appeared surprised that there was something that resembled a glob of dough, cheese, and pineapple. "Oh," he exclaimed, shaking his hand off over the garbage, but making sure to eat each piece of pineapple. "That was a piece of pineapple cheese pizza. We have the rest of the box in the car. Would you like some?"

Juliet shook her head, her face showing conflicting annoyance and amusement as they rounded the corner into Chief Vick's office. "Detective O'Hara. Mr. Spencer. Mr. Guster," she began from her post behind her desk. One of the chairs was occupied by Lassiter. Juliet soon took the other one. "Nice of you to join us," Chief Vick continued. "Now -"

"Oh, I'm sensing something," Shawn interrupted, his eyes lighting on the reflection of three photographs in Vick's file. "Three... three... pink ruffles, no, dolls, no, women! Three women, all blonde. MIA. No, they aren't soldiers. They're... wives?"

"Very good, Mr. Spencer," the chief declared, while Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Yes, we have three women, all wives in struggling relationships, all blonde. They all vanished from their homes on three consecutive Saturdays, between six AM and eight AM, while their husbands were gone for business. Unfortunately, the similarities stop there. Only one thing stood out to us - they were all struggling financially, and yet they all had an uneaten piece of Jaques' Bistro's, one of the most expensive restaurants in town, Pumpkin Cheesecake with Two Layers of White Chocolate Creme in their fridges."

"That doesn't make sense," Shawn said, his mind lost in a world of pumpkin deliciousness.

"No, it doesn't," Gus agreed, also thinking of the pumpkin cheesecake.

"We agree, Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster," Chief Vick informed them, gesturing to herself and the detectives. "So I was wondering if -"

"I mean, pumpkin cheesecake is a very precise dessert," Gus reasoned, completely oblivious to the Chief. "You need to get the ratio of cheesiness to pumpkin to nutmeg right. Would that even work with white chocolate creme?"

"I don't know," Shawn responded. "It would either be disastrous, or marvelously delicious."

"Mr. Guster! Mr. Spencer!" Chief Vick exclaimed, standing up. "We are working on a case here. We don't need your immaturity. Now, we need to investigate this carefully."

"Say no more, Chief," Shawn agreed. "Gus and I will go check out this restaurant, and find out if the Pumpkin Cheesecake with Two Layers of White Chocolate Creme is as blissful as it sounds."

"You know that's right," Gus said, bumping fists with Shawn and turning to exit.

"Mr. Guster! Mr. Spencer!" the chief shouted, louder and more frightening this time. Shawn and Gus turned around and slid sheepishly back to the desk. "Now then. Allow me to finish. We also found that these three women and their husbands have been visiting the same marriage counseling agency. We need to get into this, um -"

"Marion's Marriage Counseling?" Shawn interrupted, his forefinger on his temple, for his gaze had just fallen on a business card on the side of Juliet's file.

"With all due respect, Chief," Lassiter said, speaking up for the first time. "We don't need these two. Detective O'Hara and I can get in there, posing as a married couple," Juliet looked slightly nauseated, "And we will get the information and get out. Spencer and Guster can go back home and play, or whatever it is they do."

"Detective Lassiter, need I remind you that I am in charge?" Chief Vick replied tersely, her words clipped. "Now, Lassiter, I'm not sure that you and O'Hara fit the image of a couple. We would like somebody, that, well -"

Shawn grinned. "Somebody with amazing hair and a charming husband-like smile?"

Chief Vick looked annoyed, but simply sighed irately and continued, "Well, I believe that the marriage counselor is more likely to believe that Mr. Spencer and O'Hara are a couple. Meanwhile, you can partner up with Guster and visit the Bistro." It was impossible to tell who was more disgusted, Gus or Lassiter. They exchanged a quick glance and then looked pleadingly at the chief, who opened her hands and added, "It's already decided. This Marion's Marriage Counseling is very strict and expensive, which makes it seem as though these couples, although troubled financially, wanted to save their relationships. That, or the agency wanted these women for some reason. Anyway, I have papers for Spencer and O'Hara. You will be Lindsay and Tom Peterson."

Shawn grinned at Juliet, who looked slightly pleased but more annoyed. "So that makes me -"

"We don't have time for that, Shawn," Jules interrupted, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of Chief Vick's office, while Gus and Lassiter stayed behind, still not speaking. "We're working on this case together, so we need to cooperate."

"Gus!" Shawn shouted back, evidently not hearing a word Juliet was saying. "Buy me some of that pumpkin cheesecake!" It was not clear whether Gus heard, for he was in the process of explaining to Lassiter, once again, that he worked in pharmaceutical sales.

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><p>Ten minutes later, all four found themselves in the parking lot, arguing heatedly over the use of the cars. "My car's in the shop," Jules reiterated for the umpteenth time.<p>

"Come on, Lassiter," Gus said at the same time. "We are going in my car. I will not have somebody else driving my car! It is in like-new condition, and I plan to keep it that way."

"There is no way I am letting O'Hara drive my car," Lassiter countered, glancing at Jules briefly. "No offense, O'Hara."

"Of course not," she muttered.

"How about this?" Shawn suggested. "Lassie can drive Gus' car, and I'll drive Lassie's car."

Lassiter and Gus both turned to Shawn in one fluid motion and shouted, "No!"

"Spencer, why don't you and O'Hara take your motorcycle?" Lassie suggested, looking only slightly amused.

"Then we can take my car!" Gus exclaimed, relieved.

"No, we would take mine," Lassiter protested, turning back to Gus with a ferocious expression on his face.

"Guys, guys," Jules piped up. "I am not riding on Shawn's motorcycle. We're a married couple, remember? Married couples don't drive motorcycles!"

"I'm pretty sure the correct version of that sentence is, 'married couples don't ride motorcycles,'" Shawn interjected.

"I've heard it -" Jules stopped, looking shocked at herself. "God, what am I saying?"

"O'Hara, you're a married couple that is going for marriage counseling," Lassie barked. "Maybe... he likes the motorcycle, but you can't stand it. And that's one of your 'problems.'"

"Nice use of air quotes, Lassie," Shawn quipped, but it was Juliet whose voice came out louder.

"No, Carlton, no married couple rides a motorcycle unless they're stuck in a '60's Western," Jules protested angrily.

"She's right about that," Gus pointed out.

"Everyone! What are you still doing here?" the chief asked, on her way out of the station to a meeting with the mayor.

"Carlton and Gus are having difficulty deciding which car to ride in," Jules explained.

Chief Vick sighed in exasperation and shouted. "Well, help them decide, O'Hara! We don't have forever! These women could be alive right now."

Lassiter and Gus glowered at Jules until she finally threw her hands up in defeat. "Fine! We'll take the motorcycle."

Shawn and Jules took their places, Shawn yelling backwards, "Hold on, Jules!"

"I'm not holding onto anything," Jules called back as the motorcycle revved into gear. Shawn grinned widely as the motorcycle curved onto the road with a guttural roar.

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><p>Alright. That's it, so far. What do you think? I haven't written much for Psych, nothing on this website, anyway, so I'm not really sure if it's good. Review if you want me to continue!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

I am so sorry I haven't posted yet! I did get a review and some alerts (that I know of), but I'm on vacation in a cabin that doesn't have internet, so I'm currently sitting outside the library in the nearest town, which is really in the County High School. Yes, there is just one High School in the whole county. And I don't know the exact amount of reviews because I have a limited time, and since I feel bad about this, I wanted to do it first, then I'll get to email. SO, here is Chapter 2. I just thought of the whole plot and I'm super excited. Hopefully you are too!

Disclaimer: I don't own Psych. I do own Marion's Marriage Counseling, at least, the fictional one, in case a real one exists anywhere in this world.

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><p>"Welcome, welcome," a plump redheaded woman greeted them as she ushered them into her office, where they had wound up after a stop for a pineapple, which Shawn had presented as a gift, to Juliet's chagrin. "My name is Marion. And you are... Lindsay and Tom Peterson?"<p>

"Yes," Juliet agreed, leaning forward eagerly in that way she did when she was excited about her cover. "We've been married for five years now, and we really -"

"Wait, wait," Marion said jollily, stopping Jules' eager rant. "Let me first present our services. After all, you should know everything we provide before you go ahead with this, Mrs. Peterson."

Jules nodded, grinning. "Of course. I love to be informed about everything I do," she gushed eagerly. Shawn nudged her a little, but she gave him a disapproving glance, which was noted by Marion, who launched into a long explanation of their services.

"Here at Marion's, we like to offer you as personal an experience as possible. We have our standard first meeting, as we are now, and then one more group session, during which I like to talk about your problems and observe you. My trademark is a meal at Jacques' Bistro, a reconciliatory date of sorts. If this date goes well, chances are that you will be back on track with your marriage. Then we will have a number of private sessions, mixed in with group discussions," Marion explained, handing them each a little pamphlet with a description of each of these steps. Shawn merely glanced at it with a bored expression, but Jules was devouring every word. He rolled his eyes. It wasn't like they were actually getting marriage counseling. This would have been much more fun if the Chief had let them pick their own names out. And maybe an Italian accent.

"Now, I'm not going to talk about what happens if the date doesn't go well. I am an optimist, and I don't like to cast a damper on the beginning stages of your renewed marriage," Marion told them, smiling cheerily. Shawn shuddered. How could someone be so cheerful? There was definitely something off about this woman.

Jules was speaking now, looking excited. "I read in the newspaper that some women have disappeared and they all went here," she informed Marion, her eyes wide and blue. _Not to mention beautiful,_ Shawn thought. "Do you know anything about that? Because, obviously, Tom and I don't want to be involved in anything shady. We're a very perfect couple." Shawn laughed, unable to stop himself. _A perfect couple in need of marriage counseling, right._

"Now, Tom," Marion said in a motherly voice, not replying to Juliet's question, a detail which was carefully noted by Shawn. "You shouldn't act so impatient. The first step to a healthy relationship is respect. You need to respect your wife before you can be happy together. Respect leads to honesty, which I'm sure you know is _very_ important to a relationship." There was a maniacal gleam in Marion's eye at the word honesty, so that it looked like she wanted to murder either him or the word.

Shawn scooted back in his chair, sputtering, "Uh, yeah... uh," and then, running out of ideas - which was very unlike him -, he lapsed into a spontaneous coughing fit. "I'm sorry," he said between hacking coughs, in response to Marion's alarmed look. "I have, er, Deadly Cough Syndrome. If I," cough, "don't get," cough, "coughing medication soon," cough, "I go into a coma."

Marion jumped up, clearly frightened, and bustled out of the room with a "Oh, my! I'll go get some from the medicine cabinet!"

Jules, on the other hand, was amused. "Deadly Cough Syndrome? That's the best you could think of? Wow, Shawn. You're losing your touch." Shawn scowled at her as he hurried over to the desk, opening drawers. "Seriously, though," Juliet continued, despite leaning over curiously to see what he was finding. "I think Marion is nice. I don't think she's our kidnapper."

"Too nice, more like," he argued. "Besides, that doesn't prove she isn't a psycho," Shawn added, opening another drawer and extracting a small orange bottle. "Aha! These pills are for - the label's been scraped off. But it still says the doctor - Dr. Hart. Is Dr. Hart one of your clients?"

Shawn looked up, only to see Jules laughing as she replied, "Um, Shawn? It's me. Juliet O'Hara. Not Gus."

"Sorry. Easy mistake to make," Shawn snapped, irritated. When she looked slightly hurt, he amended hastily, "Um, because you're my partner now, and usually it's Gus."

"Right," Jules responded, wiping her hands off on her skirt as though she had to get rid of something on them, and looking down. "But, Shawn, we have to hurry. Marion'll be back any second."

"Don't be a one-legged duck, Jules," Shawn disagreed, earning a curious look from Juliet, as he pulled open the last drawer and extracted a small plastic baggie filled with something that looked like blond hair. "There's no coughing medication in the medicine cabinet. It was - That is, I sensed it." Juliet looked impressed, while Shawn rounded the desk and showed her the baggie. "Why would Marion have a bag full of blond hair in her bottom drawer?"

"I don't know," Jules answered. "Unless she did abduct the women and... took some of their hair?" Shawn smiled as she crinkled her nose - he loved when she did that.

"Well, we can take some of it and run it through a DNA test," Shawn suggested, pocketing a few blond locks.

"Shawn! We can't do that! We don't have a search warrant," she protested.

"Jules, I'm having major vibes about this hair. It's important to the case," he told her. "My psychic senses don't work according to protocol. They are wily and handsome. They don't like protocol."

Juliet gave him an annoyed look, but didn't stop him from taking the hair. The approach of footsteps found Shawn laying on the floor, twitching feebly, as though her were dying. "Oh, dear me!" Marion exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, I had to run across the hall to that infernal Dr. Zimbi or whatever-his-name-is's office, and get some cough medicine from him. Will he be okay?" she asked anxiously as Juliet administered the cough medicine - or rather, poured it into a small evidence bag below Shawn's mouth.

"Oh, yes, it only takes about a minute or so for the medicine to affect him," Jules replied, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly. "I've thought about it, Marion, and I've decided that your agency is simply wonderful. Can we schedule a second appointment?"

"Oh! Already?" Marion asked, surprised, still looking at Shawn's barely-moving body. "Well... Of course! Talk to Sheryl at the front desk. I think we had a last-minute cancellation tomorrow, so if that's okay with you, we can fit you in early!"

"Oh, that'd be great!" Jules exclaimed, beaming. "Sha- I mean, Tom, leaves on a business trip Wednesday and gets back Friday, so we would either have to do it tomorrow or Friday afternoon."

"No, no, Friday doesn't work," Marion confided. "Because that's when your big date's going to be!"

"Really? Oh, that's exciting," Juliet nearly squealed, making Shawn want to miraculously recover of disgust. Why had the chief thought that making Jules go undercover was ever a good idea?

"Oh... Lindsay," Shawn moaned instead. "Can - can you h-help me up?" he stuttered artistically.

"Tom!" Jules-as-Lindsay exclaimed, reaching out a dainty hand. Shawn groaned as he picked himself up from the ground, pretending to stumble and almost lose his balance.

"So, are we all set?" Shawn asked after a few minutes of acting nauseated.

"Yes, yes, I'll even talk to Sheryl for you," Marion offered. "You'd better get Tom home to rest, Lindsay," she added, obviously feeling guilty for taking so long to find the cough medication.

As they walked out of the marriage counseling agency, Juliet turned to Shawn and said, "Where did you get so good at acting?"

Shawn nearly tripped over the flat floor, thinking of all the time he spent pretending he was psychic. "Um, I have a natural talent, I guess," he responded finally, not looking into Juliet's eyes.

"Wow, some natural talent," she told him appreciatively, then climbed onto the motorcycle behind him.

The ride to the police station was short, but as they neared Shawn's normal parking spot, he stopped abruptly. He nearly heard Juliet's jaw drop behind him as he exclaimed quietly, "Holy pineapple."

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><p>I think I may have messed up with Jules here, but I really tried to make her all excited and super-into-it, the way she gets whenever she's undercover. At least she's not talking about burying a placenta in the backyard this time. =) REVIEW! And tell me if you want Chapter 3!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Funny Lassie/Gus moments coming up. These two don't have nearly enough scenes in the show, I think. I love how Gus is mature compared to Shawn, but to Lassie he's like a little kid as well. Also, they've only worked together for one episode, and that one, while being a good episode, was kind of weird, what with the tap-dancing outbursts. So, read and review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Psych. I hope to one day be the owner of a piece of Pumpkin Cheesecake with Two Layers of White Chocolate Creme, even though I haven't decided if it's going to be delicious or disastrous yet. It sounds delicious.

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><p>Gus and Lassie drove separately to Jacques' Bistro, and as a result, ended up competing for the same parking spot. Gus, not wanting to be charged with destroying a policeman's vehicle or his precious company car, parked by the Psych office and walked along the pier to a very impatient Lassiter. "Finally, Guster. What took you so long?" he snapped as the waitress led them to a table by the window.<p>

"Maybe you taking my parking spot," Gus replied incredulously, then asked, "Why aren't we sitting outside? It's a nice day."

"I don't like little children running around or seagulls trying to take my food, Guster," Lassie told him, eyeing Gus with displeasure. "Hold up, waitress. We're not here to eat. We need to talk to your manager."

"Why did you ask for a table then?" Gus questioned, while the waitress shot Lassiter a look of disdain.

"The manager's busy," she replied snottily, handing them their menus.

Whipping out his police badge, Lassiter shouted, "Ever seen one of these, Megan?" The waitress, whose name tag revealed her name to be Megan, rolled her eyes and snapped her gum before consenting to lead the manager to their table. He turned out to be a plump, middle-aged man, who looked equally frightened and pleased to be visited by a member of the law enforcement.

"Hello, sir," Gus began courteously. "Are you Jacques?"

"Oh," the manager laughed, in a perfectly American accent. "I'm Jack Smith, if that's what you mean. Jacques just makes it sound fancy."

"Well, Mr. Smith -" Gus began again.

"We have a few questions regarding one of your customers. Do you know a Marion Jones?" Lassiter barked, cutting Gus' response off.

"Oh, yes," the manager answered immediately. Lassiter leaned forward excitedly, opening his mouth to ask something more, but the manager continued, "But I don't actually know her, you see. She never came in person. We talked on the phone, but it was mostly me and her receptionist, arranging the details."

"Wait," Gus interrupted, exchanging a glance with Lassiter. "You never met Marion? But you might have met her, just not known her by name."

"Well, yes. If somebody else paid her bill, she could have been here many times. But I've never had anybody by the name of Marion here. It's a bit of an interest for me, so I look and see, but never have I ever had her pay a bill here. She does send plenty of customers my way, though, so I don't complain," Jack told them.

"Do you know anything else about this Marion? Anything out of the ordinary?" Gus asked curiously, just as Lassie was standing up to leave.

"Well, there was one thing," the manager said, making Lassie sit back down again in surprise. "Whenever one of her couples was here on a date, there would be a weird cloaked person sitting at the next table, watching them and taking notes."

"A weird _cloaked_ person?" repeated Lassie derisively. "What is this, Harry Potter?"

"No, no, but it was just like that!" Jack exclaimed. "I could never see the person's face. And they always payed in cash. So I never knew who it was! I always assumed it was a Marion's employee, but now that I think about it, it could've been Marion herself."

"Did you see this person's face?" Gus queried.

"No, never. They always had the hood up. And whoever it was had their hair back, so I can't tell you a hair color either. My waiters report that the voice, however, was a woman," the manager informed them.

"Okay, let's go, Guster," Lassiter said abruptly, pulling Gus away by the sleeve.

"Thank you for your time," Gus replied to the manager, then turned to Lassiter and slapped his hand away. "I spent an hour ironing this shirt! And - Oh, Lassie, we have to get the Pumpkin Cheesecake with Two Layers of White Chocolate Creme."

"Two pieces?" asked a waitress, who had been walking next to them without being noticed.

"Yes. One in a to-go box, please," Gus specified.

"Guster, this is ridiculous. We have to get down to the station and tell the chief what we've learned. It's possible that O'Hara and Spencer have learned something important." Lassie's tone indicated that he thought it was highly unlikely.

"If you don't like it, you can go," Gus offered. Lassiter sighed with relief and stood up quickly, unfortunately knocking into the waitress that was carrying a tray of wineglasses and the two pieces of pumpkin cheesecake. Apparently, it was unwise to combine a furious Lassiter, face and pants covered in orange goo, shirt slathered in wine, with a very apologetic waitress. Gus hid his laughter under his hand as he slipped, unnoticed, out of the restaurant.

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><p>"Holy pineapple," Shawn repeated as Jules climbed off of the motorcycle. He followed, approaching the wine-and-pumpkin-cheesecake covered Lassie with caution. "What happened, Lassie? Did you fall into the restaurant's garbage disposal? Or possibly the dumpster?"<p>

Lassie's furious face cued a fist bump with Gus, who looked very unapologetic. "Seriously, though, Gus, what did you do to him?" Juliet asked, with a concerned look after her partner, who was storming into the station amidst the laughing stares of the other officers. The other three followed at a safe distance.

"I didn't do anything!" Gus exclaimed defensively. "He ran into the waitress. He deserved it, too."

Shawn laughed. "He ran into the waitress?"

"Yes," Gus replied as they entered Chief Vick's office, where a slightly cleaner Lassie stood, the smoke practically erupting from his ears.

"I understand, Detective, but it was your fault. The city will have to pay Jacques' Bistro," Chief Vick was saying, also standing up. "Oh, there you are," she greeted them, her relief audible. "Lassiter tells me that you've discovered something."

"Yes, Chief, we have," Shawn said, stepping in front of Gus, who had been about to describe his and Lassiter's discoveries. "We met Marion, who is about as jolly as Santa Claus in a pumpkin suit." This comment earned a best friend I've-seen-it-all from Gus, an okay-then expression from Jules, and angry looks from the Chief and Lassie. "Calm down, Lassie. Sit. Jules made a miraculous distraction, because my psychic senses were ringing. Literally. And we found - this." He pulled the blond locks from his pocket.

"Did you go into Marion Jones' desk without a search warrant, Mr. Spencer? Detective O'Hara! I would think _you_ would know better," Chief Vick scolded.

"I know, Chief, but Shawn was really sure there was something important," Jules explained.

At the same time Shawn exclaimed in a hurt voice, "Are you implying that I don't know better?" He seemed to consider this for a moment, then shrugged. "Point taken."

Chief Vick appeared to be at war with herself for a few seconds, then sighed and responded, "Okay. Take those to evidence, O'Hara. Wait! Not now. First, Detective Lassiter, Mr. Guster, what did you learn?"

"Well, the restaurant manager has never actually seen Marion, or at least, he doesn't know her by name," Gus said, eager to have a chance to speak for himself. "And every time that one of her couples eats dinner, somebody wearing a cloak -"

"Like Harry Potter?" Shawn asked, looking taken aback.

"Yes, like Harry Potter, Shawn. Somebody wearing a cloak watches them, and pays in cash. It's suspicious, we thought," he concluded.

"It's suspicious, Mr. Guster, but it's not hard evidence. Neither is the hair," the Chief told them. "Now, Mr. Spencer, if you get any vibrations or whatever it is you get, come straight her. Do not, under any circumstances, make a move yourself. We don't need you getting caught. Detective O'Hara, you can run those hairs through the lab. Detective Lassiter - find new clothes," she finished with a look at Lassie.

Shawn and Gus headed out of Chief Vick's office last, after a fuming Lassie and a determined-not-to-talk Jules. "How was marriage counseling?" Gus asked snidely, eyes on Juliet's retreating form.

"Oh, you know, just like usual. I did find something I didn't tell the Chief about, because I wanted to ask you first. Do you know a Dr. Hart?" Shawn asked, glancing sideways at Gus.

"Yes, he's a mental doctor. Not one of my clients, though," Gus added. "He makes all his medications himself, in his lab. Brilliant, but I think he's mad himself. Why?"

"There were some pills in Marion's desk from him. They were purple. Does that mean anything to you?" Shawn queried.

"No," Gus replied, shaking his head. "Dr. Hart likes to color-code each of his patients, not the actual type of pill. It could be anything. It doesn't mean Marion's a psycho killer. It could mean she had anxiety disorder, or something like that."

"Oh," Shawn responded smartly, disappointed. Suddenly, his phone began to ring. "Where is that?" he asked, reaching into the back of the car. Finally, he realized that he was sitting on it, and checked the caller ID. "It's my dad. He probably wants me to go fishing or something. Get smoothies, this'll probably take a while."

"Pineapple?" Gus asked, unnecessarily.

"You know it," Shawn answered, then picked up the phone. "Hello? Dad?"

"Oh, Shawn," his dad's voice said. "You need to come over here at once. It's urgent."

"Dad, last time you said that, you wanted me to show you how to tie a tie," Shawn responded flatly. "Because apparently you had forgotten. Then you conveniently found out that there was a whole pig in the freezer, and you wanted me to figure out how to cook it for your big reunion party."

"Shawn, that was urgent. It was the old Santa Barbara SBPD gathering," Henry protested, but quickly gave up. "But, Shawn, this really is urgent. I can't find my phone."

"Check your hand, Dad," Shawn replied, his eyes peeled for Gus, who seemed to be taking forever to come out from Jamba Juice.

"No, not this phone. The other one! I'm waiting for a call from Karen," Shawn's dad spoke, and Shawn heard the sounds of scurrying around.

"Karen? You mean Chief Vick?" he asked, confused. "Why would she be calling you?"

"Oh, it's, um, nothing," Henry responded vaguely.

"By the way, Dad, I have a question," Shawn remembered.

"Naturally."

"No, really," Shawn protested. "I'm investigating this marriage counseling place, and -"

"You want to know how to behave during sessions? Shawn, even for you, that's a low blow," Henry told him.

"No, it's not that," Shawn said, as Gus climbed back into the car and handed him his smoothie. "Mmmm. It's just, when you and Mom were... you know, did you visit a place called Marion's?"

"Yes, very sweet woman, that Marion," Henry replied. "We didn't make it very far, though. We had this date at this fancy restaurant, and your mom told me that she didn't think we could make it. She said, 'I don't think it's worth it.' So if you care about yourself, please don't come to me for help on this case. Bad memories."

"Wait, so you failed the date?" Shawn asked, leaning forward enthusiastically at this information. Hadn't Chief Vick said that the three abducted women's relationships had been improving?

"Yes, we failed the date, Shawn. Is that all?" Henry snapped, apparently having forgotten about the phone.

"Yeah," Shawn replied, sipping on his straw. In a rare moment of seriousness and true affection for his dad, he added, "Sorry, Dad."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Henry said softly after a pause. Then he cleared his throat. "Well, 'bye, Shawn."

"'Bye, Dad." Shawn hung up, turning to Gus. "Now, we're going to 1560 Germain Boulevard."

"What about the Chief?" Gus asked half-heartedly.

"What about her?" Shawn queried in response, blinking innocently.

"You know that's right," Gus agreed, lifting his hand off the steering wheel for just long enough to bump fists with Shawn.

* * *

><p>I just had to have the sweet HenryShawn moment. I love those too. Besides, we do know that Henry wanted to keep going to marriage counseling after Maddy gave up. So it makes sense. Okay, please review if you like it! Chapter 4 involves... cell phones ringing at inconvenient moments. Sound familiar? Also, I realize that Lassie being covered in icky stuff is a little over-the-top - do you think it is? - but I really wanted to do that. I just had to. It was the perfect opportunity.

By the way, you'll be getting lots of updates, IF you review. Because since I was on vacation, I had a TON of time and I'm pretty much done with it... Not that I don't have room for suggestions, if you want to include those in your reviews! Which you will write... right? Yes. Review, please!


	4. Chapter 4

Okay... I'm a big fat liar because I told you you would get every day updates, but I was too busy yesterday. You'll have every day updates from now on, though. I'm officially done writing, which is really weird. I've only posted four chapters, counting this one, and the story is fifteen chapters, if you count the epilogue. Anyway, here's chapter 4. Enjoy it while it's still funny – it gets kind of serious.

Disclaimer: I do not own Psych.

Shawn cautiously tested the doorknob to the house that had been listed under Marion Jones. It was locked. Gus sighed loudly from behind him. "Let's try the back door. Stealth mode," Shawn added, hoping they wouldn't draw attention from Marion's neat, perfect-looking neighbors. He had at least checked the Marion was in an appointment at this time, as Sheryl flicked through a small planner when setting up his and Jules' next appointment.

"Hit the jackal switch," Gus prodded.

"Gus, I'm not going to hit the jackal switch. How many times do I have to tell you that that's ridiculous and completely pointless?" Shawn complained, nevertheless "hitting the jackal switch" at a pointed glare from Gus.

"Ooooo," Gus murmured, moving forward jackal-y. Shawn followed, a bored expression on his face, until they reached the back of the house. Luckily, the screen porch's door was open. Shawn and Gus ducked inside and entered the house. The kitchen looked rather untidy, as though somebody had left with the intent of coming back soon. That wasn't really extraordinary, however - Shawn's kitchen was much messier all the time. What was weird was the smell, the source of which was discovered as soon as Gus opened the fridge, sending a wave of the putrid stink of rotten, decomposed food out.

"Sweet baby J," Shawn exclaimed, turning away. "Hasn't Marion been in her kitchen lately?"

"So this is what I could smell when we were driving up!" Gus realized. "I was afraid it would be a dead body."

"Don't worry, Gus. I don't think Marion has been stashing dead bodies here. I don't think she's been here in ages," Shawn thought aloud. "But then where is she staying? A boyfriend's house?"

Gus shrugged, closing the fridge and heading into the living room. "That's weird," he said, stopping abruptly.

"What?" Shawn asked, coming around him. He saw what Gus was talking about immediately. A window had been left open, and the screen was clawed out. "So Marion doesn't visit for a long time, but leaves her house as though she's coming back, with the window open, but doesn't come home, so kitty gets hungry and claws its way out? It doesn't make sense. Maybe she's messy enough to leave her kitchen messy - even though her desk was, like, organized alphabetically and by color and by size - but if she's leaving, wouldn't she take her cat with?"

"It is weird," Gus agreed from the stairs, having finished exploring the living room, which was covered in a bunch of papers. Shawn zoomed in on the date on one of these papers: April 1, 2001. Almost ten years ago. Why were there papers from ten years ago? Had Marion left this house _ten years ago_?

"Shawn! Shawn, come up here," Gus called, sounding alarmed. Shawn bounded up the stairs, ready to attack whoever the assailant was, but instead he found Gus staring a pictures that had been under the mattress in an unmade bed. Shawn edged over, slightly annoyed, and looked at them. They were of a young man with sandy blond hair and a woman with blond hair that looked a lot like Marion. "Is that Marion? And her husband?"

"If it was Marion and her husband, why would they be under the mattress?" Shawn asked, examining the images. It looked like Marion, if she was blonde, but he couldn't be sure. "Maybe it's her and her lover."

"Either way, she's not living with her husband," Gus pointed out. "Didn't you say that in the pamphlet, it said Marion was married? And in a healthy relationship?"

"Yeah, it did. Jules took hers, and I looked at it on the way out, for a couple seconds. It said 'We have personal experience, as I, Marion, once had trouble with my relationship, but it was fixed very easily with my marriage counseling skills.' I guess not, though," Shawn concluded, pocketing the pictures.

"Shawn! You can't take those!" Gus exclaimed. "What happens when Lassiter and Juliet come?"

"Don't be a sunburnt penguin, Gus," Shawn said, heading down the stairs and out of the house. "We're not calling Lassie and Jules here. There's nothing here for me to have a psychic vision about."

"But the house has been abandoned," Gus protested.

"There could be a million reasons for that. It could be infested with some deadly disease, for all we know," Shawn replied. "And I know we usually make up things without thinking about it, but I can't think of anything here. It just doesn't make sense. Not yet." Just then, Shawn's phone began to ring. They froze, shutting the porch door as quietly as possible and running back to the car, trying not to attract the gazes of the neighbors.

"Will you never learn to turn it on vibrate?" Gus grumbled as Shawn picked up.

"Hi, Chief. What's up?" Shawn asked cheerily, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Hello, Mr. Spencer. We need - Is that a lawn mower? Please tell me you are nowhere near Marion Jones' house," the Chief told him.

"Of course not," he lied. "I'm just helping out my dad. Something about ruining a pair of his half-boots on Halloween."

"Good," Chief Vick responded, then continued, "We need Mr. Guster down at the station right now. Is he with you? He wasn't picking up his phone."

Shawn glanced into the cup holder, and sure enough, there was Gus' phone. "Oh, yeah, he's here. You need him? _Just_ him?"

"Yes," the Chief replied, sounding a little nervous. "We're assigning him a case. Actually, he's going to work with Lassiter, since you're working with O'Hara. Don't tell him that, if he won't come because of it. We need him on this case."

"Don't worry, I won't. He'd have an aneurysm," Shawn told her, then hung up. "Gus, Chief needs you at the station."

"Just me?" Gus exclaimed, peeling out onto the road.

"Just you, buddy." Shawn laughed uneasily. "Apparently, since I'm on this thing with Jules, she's giving you you're own case."

"Cool," Gus said, looking impressed. Shawn knew that he was much more excited at having his own case than he let on. "What about Lassiter?"

"Oh, apparently Lassie has something else to do," Shawn lied plainly. There was nothing more to do but hope that Gus wouldn't be terribly angry when he found out.

Gus strode into the station, almost skipping with excitement. This was the first time Chief Vick was actually giving him his own case. Usually it was Shawn that got all the credit, even for discoveries that Gus made, because Shawn was the "psychic." But if the Chief was really giving him his own case - then suddenly Gus stopped, having entered Vick's office. Beside the desk stood a very annoyed-looking Lassiter. "Lassiter?" Gus exclaimed, surprised.

"Oh, Shawn didn't tell you," Chief Vick said, looking somewhat nervous. "Have a seat, Mr. Guster."

Gus edged around one of the chairs, sitting down, still gazing suspiciously at Lassiter, who made an expression as if to say, _What are you looking at me for?_ "I'm sorry, Chief, but I was under the impression that I would have my own case," Gus told her.

"Well, Mr. Guster, seeing as Shawn is the psychic -" the Chief began, but was cut off by a very angry Gus.

"What? Does that mean I can't be a perfectly good detective?" Gus challenged.

"No, but we need another man on a case that Lassiter is working on," Chief Vick diverted the conversation.

"I told you, Chief Vick, I can do this myself. I'm not Head Detective for no reason," Lassiter interrupted, thus explaining the irritated expression on his face.

"Detective Lassiter!" she exclaimed as Gus snorted, finding it difficult to believe that Lassie was Head Detective for some valid reason. "I am the Chief, aren't I? I make decisions, and I've decided to have you work with Mr. Guster!" Lassie leaned forward, ready to argue, but Chief Vick continued before he could say so much as "with all due respect." "Now, Mr. Guster, as I have already explained to Detective Lassiter, here, the case you'll be working on isn't exactly a new case."

"Is it an unsolved mystery?" Gus asked, his interest skyrocketing. "I was watching an episode on the Discovery Channel about the 1863 Meerkat Killer, and -"

"Guster, that was in 1863. Why would we be devoting valuable police resources to a killer from 1863 that used Meerkats to kill his victims?" Lassie queried.

"Mr. Guster! Detective Lassiter!" the Chief exclaimed angrily. "Now, are you going to listen or should I bring McNab in on this case instead?" When both Gus and Lassie quit squabbling, Chief Vick continued, "Alright, then. As I was saying, this is an old case, from ten years ago. It was a missing person's case, involving a certain Gregory Krauss. He was a professor at the University of Santa Barbara of anthropology. Back in 2001, it was decided that he moved to Democratic Republic of the Congo for his studies, but it has just now been revealed by authorities there that a Gregory Krauss never entered the Democratic Republic of the Congo. In fact, he never left Santa Barbara. We need you to find out what really happened to Mr. Krauss, and why somebody made such an elaborate cover for his disappearance."

"Of course, Chief," Lassiter agreed, getting up.

Gus wasn't so sure. "Why did it take so long to learn that Gregory Krauss never left Santa Barbara?"

"The information for flights to the Democratic Republic of the Congo is held by their authorities, and amidst their wars, our missing person's case wasn't top priority," Chief Vick explained. "Nice catch, Mr. Guster."

"Yeah, yeah, let's go and see what we can find out," Lassie grumbled, obviously annoyed that he hadn't asked Gus' question. Chief Vick shook her head as though they were little children in need of babysitting and sighed.

"Where are you going, Guster?" Lassiter called as Gus turned to exit the station.

"I'm going to find Shawn and kill him," Gus muttered under his breath as he sped away in the Psych-mobile.

Uh-oh. Shawn had better watch out! So what do you think of the case so far? What do you think will happen? Tell me in reviews! I want a couple more reviews before I update again, or the every day thing is off! So REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Tell me if you like what's happening so far!


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, I got one review. Just one sad little review. Thank you to Red Pen Ninja for that, but come on, everyone else. Can't you just spare a minute or two to review? Anyway, let's check on Shawn and Jules and their appointment. And I realize Shawn is a bit more serious than usually, but... he's with Jules and they're doing marriage counseling. Also, I'm having trouble deciding what kind of fic I should start next for Psych... I was thinking something with Abigail. Maybe Abigail comes back and finds out that Shawn and Jules are together? Or I could just do another normal case, like this one. I don't know. What do you think about that idea?

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Psych.

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><p>The next day, Shawn and Jules arrived fifteen minutes early for their counseling appointment, this time in Jules' car. "Why did we have to come here so early?" Shawn complained for the umpteenth time as they lounged around in the waiting room.<p>

Juliet rolled her eyes but didn't reply, perhaps because Marion bustled in at that moment, saying, "Oh, welcome back, welcome back, aren't you excited?" She ushered them into her office. Shawn cast a glance at it and noticed that another picture had been added to the neat array of frames. It was of a man with sandy blond hair - the guy in the pictures under the bed.

He cleared his throat. "Is that Mr. Jones?" he queried, hoping that it was a normal enough question so that it wouldn't attract attention. Shawn saw Juliet shoot him a covert look, but ignored it.

"Well, it's my husband, yes. But his name isn't Mr. Jones," Marion explained, looking briefly at the image. "We have a simply _great_ relationship," she practically purred, making Shawn shiver slightly, because he knew she was lying, and because her tone was a ten on the creepy scale. "But we're not here to discuss my relationship. It's yours we're concerned about." She sat down and placed her hands on her clean desktop. "Why don't you go first, Lindsay?"

"Okay," Jules responded. "So, me and Tom used to be a wonderful couple. We started dating in college, and he was so nice to me. Back then, his parents were alive, and he was rich, so he took my to Hawaii for spring break in our fourth year, and he proposed to me on Makua beach at sunset. It was so romantic and sweet..." She smiled lovingly at Shawn, an expression so real that he was startled for a moment. "And then we got married, and it was the perfect wedding. Literally perfect. But then, when we were twenty-five, Tom's parents crashed in their private jet, and it turned out that they left all their money to charity, so we didn't have an endless cash flow anymore." Shawn snorted slightly at the perfect wedding bit, but hid it underneath a cough, which startled Marion, who evidently was remembering the Deadly Cough Syndrome from yesterday. Privately, he vowed that if he ever married Juliet, he would give her the perfect wedding. Then he scolded himself for ever thinking of getting married, and returned his attention to Juliet's speech.

"...and since we both became so successful, we grew apart, since we were always so wrapped up in work," Jules was saying. "We couldn't have become successful without each other, but since then... I don't know. I mean, before that, we both wanted kids so much, but now, it's like, he doesn't want to talk to me. He's always on the computer, working, and I just don't know how to get him to talk to me." Shawn started to see that Jules was actually crying. _That's what happens when you have Jules go undercover,_ he sighed to himself, wrapping a gentle arm around his crying "wife's" shoulders.

"Wow," Marion whispered consolingly. "I can tell that you really want your relationship to get better. From what you said, it seems like it was work that drove you apart. What do you think, Tom? Can you give us your version of events?"

Shawn surprised himself by wanting this to be right, and not trying anything completely ridiculous. "Well, Lindsay's right. I wanted everything to be perfect for her from the start. I think I always knew that this was who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with," he said earnestly, realizing that it was true. Jules was looking at him in wonder, apparently detecting the truth in his voice. "But I guess I was really broken up by Mommy and Daddy's deaths, so I turned to work. And I became successful, so when I didn't need that comfort anymore, I kept going. Lindsay is a bit competitive, so she always wanted to be better, but eventually, I think she turned to work because she was hurt that I was doing that. So, I guess it's all my fault."

Juliet sniffed as Marion responded, "My, Tom, you really do care about your wife. I think I see a bright future for you two. Your only real problem is communication. You need to be able to express your feelings to each other. I can tell that you both want nothing more than to fix your relationship, but you don't seem to be telling each other what you need to be saying." Jules and Shawn exchanged a glance, then looked quickly away. Was that what was going on in real life, too?

"Now, I have an exercise for you to try," Marion told them. "I want you to write down the three things you want most in life, on these post-it notes." She handed them each three little pink notes. "Write the number of the order of which you desire most, and then give them to the other person. I want that person to try and put them in order, from what they think the other person wants least to most, without looking at what it says on the back." Shawn and Jules peeked at each other for a second, then bent over their post-its.

Shawn numbered his first, then immediately wrote, on the one labeled "1," _To get Lindsay to love me again._ The "L" turned out a bit like a "J," as he had started writing "Jules." For the other two notes, he hesitated. What would Tom want second and third most? Finally, he decided honesty was the best response. Complete and total honesty, without any jokes involved. "2" became _For Lindsay to be happy._ "3" was _For me to be happy._ Was it true? Jules should hope so.

Silently, he and Jules passed their post-its to each other. He felt the tiniest tingle in his stomach as he read hers. _To marry Tom again and this time make it last. Success in work._ _For us to have a happy life together._ Were hers true? Or was she just playing her part? Part of Shawn was afraid to ask. He struggled with himself for a moment, then organized the post-its with the last one first, then the first, then the one about work. "Good, good," Marion beamed, for Jules had ordered his correctly. Shawn wanted to smile at her, but he noticed she was studiously avoiding his gaze. "Oh, you got it right, too, Tom!" Marion squealed as she flipped his over. "It looks as though you're already on the right track towards reconnecting. Now, the next step is your date on Friday."

"Oh, Marion, is it really necessary?" Jules asked, obviously uncomfortable about the post-its. "I mean, you know I want our relationship to be fixed, but a date - well, it just seems like such a big deal."

"Of course it's necessary!" Marion exclaimed, looking aghast. "It's completely necessary. Now, Lindsay, I know you haven't been on a date in a while, so you and me are going to have a girls' shopping trip on Friday. For you, Tom, I'll recommend one of my colleagues here at Marion's, Mr. Bindle. We call him Bob. I know you'll have a great time!"

"I have a question," Shawn said, unable to resist. "Can I get a suit printed with tiny pineapples?" Juliet and Marion both turned to look at him sternly, but then Marion laughed.

"Oh, you're funny, Tom," she trilled. "But we need to be serious about this."

"What do you mean?" Shawn asked indignantly. "I think it's a perfectly valid question! Okay, how about this. Can Lindsay wear a stripper's outfit?"

"Tom!" Marion exclaimed. "Please, settle down. You've been doing such a nice job." Juliet was smiling however, even as Marion scolded, "You can't make inappropriate jokes with your wife. That's something you can do when you're a teenager flirting with girls, but Lindsay is your wife. We already talked about this." Marion sighed, and Jules hid her laughter beneath a cough as she turned to her. "Now, Lindsay, come on. We'll set up your date." The two women left the office, Jules casting an amused look over her shoulder.

"How was that inappropriate?" Shawn asked himself, frowning in confusion. "Didn't feel that way."

Upon exiting the agency, Juliet turned to Shawn and shook her head. "You are _such_ a little boy, you know that?"

"I prefer to think of it as an undeveloped adult," Shawn countered. "Because life is too boring if you're stuck as a developed adult forever."

Jules laughed, but didn't respond as she climbed into the passenger seat of the car, while Shawn held the door. "You realize we're not actually married, right?" she told him as he entered his own side of the car.

"Oh, I wanted to ask you about that," Shawn remembered. "Did you mean what you wrote on those post-its?"

"Shawn," Jules said, somewhat sympathetically. "It's a cover."

"Right," he agreed, not completely convinced.

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><p>Okay, please review! You guys did an okay job last time, so come on! I know you can do better! And don't forget to tell me what you want to see from another fic I might write.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Three reviews! Much better than last time! And sorry for not updating yesterday... I was crazy busy - freshman orientation all day. And whoops, I just basically told you how old I am. Well, whatever. It's not like I'm telling you my name. So, I want reviews again, because you guys did a great job this time! Here's Chapter 6, which is kind of short, but they'll get longer. I think.

Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.

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><p>"Whoa, Gus!" Shawn exclaimed as he entered the Psych office to find Lassie sitting at <em>his<em> desk and Gus holding two kitchen knives in a threatening position.

"Guster, I've told you he's not worth it," Lassie piped up from where he was sitting, poring over something on Shawn's computer.

"Gus, if you kill me now, I'll never know what happens on the Mentalist season finale," Shawn threatened. "And you would have to watch it all alone, and there would be no one to comfort you if that one girl you like dies, which she will. I saw it on the spoilers."

"Why would you tell me that, Shawn?" Gus asked, dropping the knives. "You know I hate knowing what's going to happen."

"Don't be a salty sweet pretzel, Gus," Shawn admonished. "The spoilers don't tell you whose going to die, which you would know if you read them. I said it because you were about to murder me."

"Yes, because you lied to me, Shawn. You said that Lassiter had another case," Gus told him.

"Well, now you get to be buddies with Lassie! Isn't that what you always wanted?" Shawn exclaimed, while Lassie managed to look repulsed through his reading.

Gus sighed. There was no arguing with Shawn when he was like this. "Whoa, Guster, come look at this," Lassie called at that moment.

"Okay, Gus, you get on with your case. I'm going to be at the station. I have to check on something," Shawn said as he left. Gus had a sneaking suspicion that "something" was Juliet.

"What is it, Lassiter?" Gus asked, approaching Shawn's computer to see what his new "partner" was looking at.

"Look at this. Turns out, our missing person was married to a Bridget Jones, and they never got divorced or anything," Lassie explained. "So why wouldn't she come to us and tell us that he didn't really go to the Democratic Republic of the Congo?"

"Unless he lied to her," Gus hypothesized. "Or perhaps, she was fooled along with the rest of us. Which means that their relationship couldn't have been that great, if she thought he'd just run away."

"Excellent, Guster," Lassie praised, sounding surprised that he was saying that. "And if their relationship wasn't that great, she could have killed him."

"Um, let's not get extreme, Lassie," Gus said. "But maybe she knows something. We need to find her. Does it say anything about her?"

"No, it has almost nothing," Lassie informed him, sounding surprised. "All I have is a birth certificate. Not even a picture or description. Almost like this woman has been avoiding all governmental agencies on purpose."

"Well, she could be Amish, or something," Gus suggested.

"Amish, Guster? Why would she be Amish? No, she's normal. She's going to be forty-nine this Sunday, actually," Lassie mused, scrolling through the information. "Oh, here's something. She volunteered at a government building in high school. We can ask around there."

"Lassiter, that woman was in high school," Gus paused, "thirty-two years ago. Why would anyone still be there that knew her, or better yet, remembers her?"

"Do you have anything better to go off of?" Lassie snapped.

"Yes, her parents, relatives," Gus offered.

"All dead or living in far-away countries, and it doesn't help that she practically disappears from all records at about age five. Apparently she had a twin sister and two brothers, but it's not clear what happens to them, either," his "partner" responded. "Her parents, apparently, were actually pretty rich, but most of that money went into a private fund which was... for a mental clinic. This Bridget was registered as an outpatient at the Williams-Worthing Clinic until about ten years ago. Excellent. Let's head there."

Gus and Lassiter headed towards the car - Gus consenting to ride with the detective - as he queried, "Don't you think it's weird that this twin sister and the brothers just disappeared?"

"Of course, but what do you think this is, Pretty Little Liars? The twins weren't even identical, so it wasn't like they could have 'switched,'" Lassie responded offhandedly. "It was just a secretive family, is all. The whole family disappears from the records pretty much after they're born. No one in the family went to the doctors, or did anything much. All of the kids went to a private college that refuses to consent to - what, Guster?" Lassie snapped, for Gus had been staring at him with a strange look on his face.

"I'm just incredibly creeped out that you know what Pretty Little Liars is, since it's not like you watch T.V., do you? And T.V. is the only reason I know about those books, or the T.V. show, because a grown man should not watch that. Are you really one of those creepy old men that thinks he's a little girl?" Gus asked, edging away from Lassiter.

"Don't be ridiculous, Guster," Lassie replied, rolling his eyes. "I saw the book when I was looking for a book on French cooking. I thought it looked weird, so I went to see what it was about. Then it turned out to be immensely interesting, so I bought the whole series instead of the cookbook."

Gus was staring at Lassiter with raised eyebrows. "If you say so," he answered finally. He promptly forgot about the twin sister and other mysterious siblings. It wasn't important - after all, it didn't seem like Bridget had had any connection to them at all. They soon arrived at the clinic. Lassiter did his whole badge-flashing routine, and soon they were talking to the director of the clinic.

"Oh, yes, Bridget was a very nice girl," the director told them. "Now, I can't tell you any details about her condition. That's strictly confidential, and even your pretty little badge won't help you. But I can tell you that she was an outpatient until about age thirty-five, when she had to be repeatedly checked in for months at a time. She hated it, I could tell. She missed her husband."

"I see," Gus replied, speaking over Lassiter's angry comments regarding the bit about "your pretty little badge." "Do you know how we could get in contact with her?"

"I'm afraid not," the director answered. "Even if I did have her information, I couldn't give it to you. But she left us about ten years ago, after one of her longest inpatient spurts. We told her it was dangerous to her and to others, but she didn't listen. She said, 'If I'm dangerous, that's a risk I'm willing to take. I don't want to spend the rest of my life imprisoned in this God-awful place.' I do have a few pictures of her, though."

The director moved to a filing cabinet in the back of her office and extracted a photograph. Lassiter and Gus examined it carefully; it was of a laughing, redheaded woman, someone who didn't look at all like a mental patient. Gus felt like he'd seen someone that looked vaguely like her before, but he couldn't quite place it. He tried to match her features to his friends, to people at work, but the nagging feeling remained. "Okay, thank you. May we take this with us?" Lassiter asked, and the director nodded, seeming glad to be rid of them.

"Well, she was pleasant," Gus exclaimed sarcastically.

"Did you get the feeling she was hiding something? Important information?" Lassie asked as they peeled onto the highway.

"I think she was just a nasty person," Gus said. Lassie seemed to be thinking about something on the whole ride back to the station, and refused to speak, especially when Gus asked him what other little-girl books he read.

"Hey, Gus! I have news!" Shawn exclaimed as soon as they reached the first step of the stairs to the station, from where he was waiting behind a bush. Gus jumped in fright and almost ran away, before realizing it was Shawn.

"So do I. We found out what the wife looks like. See?" Gus showed Shawn the picture of Bridget Jones. "Her name is Bridget Jones, and she was a mental patient. We think it's a pretty good lead."

But Shawn did a double-take at the image, and wasn't listening to the rest of what Gus said. "Shawn? Shawn?" Gus prodded, concerned.

Finally, Shawn lifted his head, and he had that I'm-about-to-have-a-huge-revelation expression on his face. "Gus, that's not Bridget Jones. That's Marion.

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><p>Dun-dun-dun-dun. Review if you want to see what happens now!<p>

P.S.: About the Pretty Little Liars thing. I got the idea... and I couldn't resist.


	7. Chapter 7

Okay, wow, three reviews was fast that time! Great work, guys! Can we aim for five next time? Or maybe four? Anyway, here's chapter seven! I don't know if it's very good... The interrogation room scenes tend to blur together, unless they're really creative, like the one in the alien episode (the first alien episode, season 1, I believe). So here you go.

Disclaimer: No, I am not the owner of Psych.

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><p>"What? That's Marion? Marion <em>Jones<em>?" Gus asked, the significance of the surname hitting him immediately.

"Yep," Shawn confirmed, then pulled out a small bag of blond hair. "I was going to show you this. It's the hair me and Jules found at Marion's."

"Jules and I," Gus corrected, then looked closer. "That's kind of creepy. Whose is it?"

"Apparently, it's Marion's," Shawn told him. He had been surprised when he'd learned the results, but he supposed it made sense. "She must be a natural blonde. It still doesn't explain why she'd keep a bag of hair in her desk, though."

"Yeah, that is weird. I'm going to go tell Lassiter that this is Marion, and we can call her in for questioning," Gus decided. "But you and Juliet will have to watch. She thinks you're Tom and Lindsay Peterson, right?"

"Yeah," Shawn responded moodily. Lassiter and Gus did call in Marion, and soon Shawn found himself watching behind the one-way glass in the interrogation room, Juliet at his side.

"Marion Jones. Or should I say, Bridget?" Gus began, advancing on the suspect, who looked frightened.

Marion fidgeted nervously, then answered, "I know it looks bad, but it isn't what you think, honest. My name isn't Marion, it's Bridget, but I use Marion for business. It sounds more friendly, more like a person that would like to help. Plus, I never liked the name Bridget. So I changed it."

Shawn and Jules looked at each other, shrugging. It sounded like a perfectly reasonable explanation, albeit a bit odd. Lassie didn't seem to think so. "Listen here, Bridget. If you cooperate, you just might be able to convince the D.A. to let you off easy. But if you don't, you're looking at much worse chances for whatever you did to your husband!"

"My husband? I don't understand..." Marion faltered, then looked Gus, who stepped forward.

"Your husband Gregory Krauss went missing about ten years ago, and evidence led police to believe that he had gone to the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Recent evidence has revealed that he never left Santa Barbara. Now, do you know anything about what happened to your husband?" Gus asked.

Shawn watched Marion's reaction carefully. It seemed that she paled slightly, but her eyes held their ever-cheerful gleam as she answered, "No. I always thought he ran away. I was horribly torn up about it, and that's why I never really said anything to the police back then."

Lassiter seized this opening immediately. "Are you implying that there is something you would have said to the police?" he demanded.

"No, not really. But there were some things," Marion added, to Shawn's surprise. If it was true that she hadn't known her husband hadn't disappeared to the Democratic Republic of the Congo, then what could she possibly have to say. "He was acting weird. He was gone a lot, and he seemed distant when he talked to me. Could that have anything to do with this?"

_He could have been cheating,_ Shawn realized. But then the logical explanation would be that Marion killed him. And if she had, why would she give them evidence that pointed to this? Lassiter seemed to be working upon a different theory, however, as he stormed into the viewing room. "It's obvious what happened," he told them in a hushed voice. "Old Gregory was having a little on the side, and the mistress didn't know he was married, and she found out, and killed him."

"I don't know, Lassie, it seems a bit far-fetched," Shawn said, an almost mocking expression on his face - almost.

"Yes, Carlton, it doesn't really make sense," Juliet added.

"That's what I said!" Gus piped up, looking frustrated. "If anything, the mistress would more likely have killed Marion."

"I have a theory," Shawn interrupted, in that voice that hinted that he was about to spout something completely ridiculous. "The mistress was pressuring him to break up with Marion, so he killed himself." Everyone stared at him. "What?"

Juliet shook her head and turned away. "I think there's something she isn't telling us," she informed them. "I mean, when we were talking to her, she said her relationship with her husband was great. Why would she lie about that?"

"Excellent question, O'Hara. Let's go ask," Lassie announced and departed. Inside the interrogation room, he approached Marion, who looked scared to be alone in the room with him - which made Shawn grin, especially when she sighed in relief at Gus' entrance - and barked, "An anonymous witness testified that you called your relationship with your husband 'great.' Why would you lie about that?"

"Well, it's not great for business, you know," Marion remarked in reply. "I mean, who would come to me if I couldn't even save my own marriage? So I always tell the story of how I saved my marriage, to help increase confidence in me."

"Yeah," Gus commented, appearing thoughtful. "I wouldn't go to a marriage counselor whose own husband ran away from her."

"Exactly," Marion said. "I know it's a lie, and I hope God will forgive me. I was always a marriage counselor, but when my marriage fell apart, I really got into it. I would never want the same thing to happen to someone else. It's horrible. All those nights you go without sleeping, thinking you did something wrong that caused this... I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy." Shawn was still trying to read Marion's body language, but her expression of misery seemed quite real. Unless, of course, she was psycho, Shawn thought, remembering the medication from Dr. Hart in the drawer and that Gus had mentioned she was a mental patient.

"Alright," Gus responded finally, seeming to come to the same conclusion as Shawn. "Can you tell us exactly what happened on the night of your husband's disappearance?"

Marion nodded. "Well, it was a Saturday." That was true - Shawn had seen it in the case file when Jules had been reading it. "So I was visiting my sister for the day, because it had been a while since I'd been home since I was at - that horrible clinic." Shawn didn't know anything about a sister, but it seemed okay. Gus and Lassie were both nodding, apparently unable to find anything wrong with this. "When I came home, I called for my husband, but he wasn't there. And I went upstairs... and he was gone." Her lip trembled quite convincingly.

"Okay," Lassiter agreed after a pause. "You can go." Marion left quietly and soon after, Gus and Lassie reentered the viewing room. "What do you think?"

"I don't know," Shawn responded immediately. "I think she seemed sincere, but something seems _off _about this. I mean, all she did was go upstairs and see that some of his things were gone? That could have meant a lot of things. And there wasn't even a note? That doesn't make sense. If I hated my wife, I would at least vent my anger and frustration into a tiny piece of paper. Possibly in pineapple print."

Lassie shook his head. "I don't know how you solve cases, Spencer, when you are such a moron most of the time. Aren't you getting psychic... vibrations?"

"I'm getting conflicting vibes, Lassie. As though two people are fighting over my dead body. Or possibly my hair," Shawn mused, while Juliet turned to her partner.

"I'm not sure what Shawn is getting, but I think there was something off about that woman," Jules decided. "I think she's nice, but there are some holes in her story."

"Oh! Oh!" Shawn exclaimed, putting his hands forward as though he were cooking. "I'm getting... cooking. Cleaning. Sleeping. Watching T.V. A house! You should check Marion's house!" Gus gave him a look that, in best-friend language, meant _wow-you-need-to-step-it-up._ Shawn made a face - did he think it was easy to come up with all these different "psychic episodes?"

"You mean Bridget's house, and are you sure?" Lassiter asked, frowning.

"Of course I'm sure," Shawn responded. "As sure as I am that the guy with the hair shouldn't have died in that one movie. What was that movie, Gus?"

"You need to be more specific, Shawn," Gus answered, appearing genuinely puzzled.

"Hm," Shawn thought aloud. "I don't know. Well, Lassie, the psychic world is abuzz - abuzz. Is that a word?" Nobody responded, all three of them turning to leave at the same moment. "What? It's not then, is it?" The door slammed shut behind Jules while Shawn shook his head in confusion. What had he said wrong?

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><p>Lassiter walked over to his desk, carefully reading Marion's case file. Without looking up, he sat down and reached for his mouse, which seemed to have escaped - or at least, it wasn't where he had left it. This forced him to tear his eyes from the file, and upon this action, his gaze was arrested by a wrapped present. What could that be? He looked around suspiciously, but Spencer and Guster were nowhere to be seen. With cautious hands, he unwrapped the gift. When he saw what it was, he stood up and shouted, "Spencer! Guster!" just as at the other end of the station, Shawn and Gus bumped fists.<p>

Jules was left to wonder as she passed her partner's desk and saw the crisp _Pretty Little Liars: Season 1_ DVD laying open, freshly unwrapped.

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><p>I actually do kind of like this chapter. No, I don't. Well, I don't know. What do you think?<p>

On the Pretty Little Liars thing: I couldn't resist.


	8. Chapter 8

Five reviews! You guys are awesome! Keep it up! So, here's chapter eight, the Shules date! Yes, it's exciting, but I want to you to know that I'm starting school tomorrow, so I may not have as much time to write. Depends on how difficult high school is. It won't really affect this fic, since I'm already done writing, but if I'm too tired to go and save this as a Word document and do all of that stuff, and write these notes, then the updates might be less frequent. But if you review, then maybe that will wake me up enough to update!

Disclaimer: Don't own Psych.

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><p>It was Friday, and Juliet had a date with Shawn that night. As much as she didn't like to admit it, and as much as she wanted to believe that this was just for the case, she was nervous. What was she supposed to do? She had told him about her feelings, and then he'd dated Abigail for a year - Juliet was confused. And she did not like being confused.<p>

Marion had taken her on a wonderful shopping spree that morning, helping her pick out a light, summery dress in blue - the same color as her eyes - and matching shoes that were _incredibly_ cute. And comfortable! Sometimes people did not realize how difficult it was to find shoes that were equally cute and comfortable and didn't appreciate the value of these things. She shook her head, inwardly, for Marion was doing her makeup and adorning her with some golden baubles.

Watching Marion's careful administering of each little bottle of who-knows-what in the mirror, Juliet was more certain than ever that this woman wasn't the murderer, although her convictions had been shaken during the interrogation. But what kind of murderer would take her victims on a shopping spree and buy them more than two hundred dollars worth of clothing and accessories? It just didn't make sense, unless she was to believe Shawn's theory that this woman was psycho. She very nearly rolled her eyes. How could Shawn believe that Marion was psychotic when she was so very nice and _normal_?

"Ta-da!" Marion trilled, moving away her hands to reveal Juliet's face. She blinked at herself. How long had it been since she'd been this fancily dressed and made up? Her hair was curled around her face - the very same way it had been the day Shawn rejected her, she thought with a pang, - and her eyes sparkled amidst the careful makeup. _I look nice,_ Juliet realized, almost surprised. Her second thought was, to her annoyance, _What will Shawn think?_

"Wow. Thanks, Marion," she said earnestly, turning to the older woman, who was looking at her rather strangely. "Marion?"

"Oh, yes, Lindsay," Marion replied, seeming to shake herself awake. "I was just remembering the time I went on a date at the very same restaurant... I was so excited."

Jules smiled at her reflection. _Ready or not, here I come, Shawn Spencer._

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><p>Shawn paced nervously in front of Juliet's house. Marion's colleague, Tim, had hired a car to take them to their date - their very odd date, by the looks of things. Somehow, this was not how he had imagined his first real date with Jules. He had always pictured it more quiet and casual, maybe dinner and then a walk on the beach. Not a hired car and a fancy restaurant. Oh, well. It would have to do.<p>

When Jules stepped out of her house, Shawn immediately forgot all his worries about the location of the date. _She's beautiful,_ Shawn thought, and not for the first time. But in her nice-fitting dress, which accentuated her curves, her eyes danced a brilliant blue, seeming to light up the entire block. Her hair was done up the same way it had when he'd rejected her, he realized with an odd tightening sensation in his chest. And she was smiling a smile worth a the world to him. "Wow," Shawn said, when he realized she was expecting him to say something. "Wow. You look... wow."

"You look nice, too, Shawn," Jules responded, grinning even wider at his bemusement and climbing into the car without waiting for him to help her. He slid in beside her and sat quietly, unsure of what to say.

"So..." he began very smartly. Then Shawn cleared his throat and glanced at the driver, finding it easier to continue if he remembered their cover, and that the driver may be taking notes for Marion. "So, Lindsay." Jules glanced at him briefly, obviously noting what he had called her. "How is your... work going?" It was lame, he knew, but he couldn't think of anything better to say.

Juliet smiled at his lame attempt at conversation and replied, "It's good, Tom, but honestly? Couldn't you think of something better than work to ask me about?"

"Well, what do we usually talk about?" Shawn asked, quite honestly. Whenever they usually talked, it was about something they had encountered in passing. "Oh! I know. I was just thinking of this new invention that will revolutionize America." He paused for dramatic effect. "A shower that shampoos and conditions your hair on its own, scrubs, and trims and brushes your hair."

Juliet looked thoughtful at this. "Wow, Sh - Tom. That may be your best idea yet. But revolutionize America? I don't think you're there yet," she opined. "And do you really think you can do that?"

"I can show you. It can be expanded to make room for two," Shawn informed her, only half-jokingly.

She laughed and shook her head. "Yeah, okay, Tom."

"Hey, we're married, remember?" Shawn queried, moving a bit closer to her.

"Yes, _Tom_, I'm _Lindsay_, your wife," Juliet articulated clearly, making each name sound out clearly. Shawn leaned back, a bit disappointed, but smiling, as they finally arrived at the restaurant.

"Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson," a waitress told them, leading them to a romantic location right by the water.

"Wow, Tom," Jules said, her eyes falling on a rather creepy cloaked figure at the table behind them. "Did you pick this location?"

"Actually, no, but I wish I had," Shawn responded. "It's the best table. You know I'd do that for you, Lindsay."

Juliet smiled shyly and looked down, seeming fully conscious of her amazing looks. "Shawn," she hissed lowly, so that the figure couldn't hear them.

"It's a cover only if you want it to be," he whispered back as he pretended to take a sip of his water. Jules leaned back, looking rather cross, but he could tell she was pleased by the compliments.

"So what do you want to eat?" Shawn asked, at full volume.

"Hmm... I don't know," Juliet mused, skimming the menu. "Should we get appetizers? Something to share? Ooooo, how about coconut shrimp?"

"Okay, sure," Shawn agreed, mostly just to be agreeing. They waved down a waitress and asked for some shrimp, and then they ordered wine. Wine. It seemed so fancy. _My dream date with Jules involved pineapple smoothies, _Shawn remembered sadly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking considered.

"Well, I was just thinking that on my dream date with you, it wouldn't be at some fancy restaurant like this. It'd be somewhere on the beach, with pineapple smoothies," he responded truthfully. Juliet seemed to sense this and cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Oh, what's wrong, Lindsay? Am I not allowed to say how much I love you?"

At this, Jules looked positively alarmed, and was saved from having to respond by the return of the waitress, who was wondering if they'd decided on a main meal. Shawn stared at Juliet for a moment, then replied, "Oh, yes. I'd like the Pineapple Blue Crab Gnocchi, please."

Jules smiled at this - man, that girl had a beautiful smile, - and added, "And I want the Crab Cakes."

"The Raspberry Honeydew Melon Crab Cakes with Pesto Fettucini?" the waitress clarified, to which Juliet nodded. "Okay, I'll be back in a minute."

The sun was dimming quickly, and Shawn realized he had to do something, fast. He couldn't spend his entire date - his entire _first_ date - with Juliet in this awkwardness. So he carefully turned the conversation to lighter topics. "Do you know why Lassie has been wearing pink ties lately? I've noticed, but there's never been a good chance to tease him. Usually it's so easy, but he seems to be on top of things lately."

Juliet appeared to be glad for the change in topic and responded, "I think it's because his mother has breast cancer. But I'm not really sure. It might be his maid. I realize I'm his - that I'm closest to him, but you know how difficult it is to make him open up."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Shawn responded, earning a giggle from Juliet. "I always find it incredibly easy to make fun of him. For example, did you see what Gus and I did today?"

"Um," Jules responded thoughtfully. "Which one are you talking about?"

Soon, Shawn had Juliet laughing, just as their food came, at which he began making shapes with her fettucini, even while she was trying to eat them. When he slid his hand onto hers, during a particularly long rant of hers about some trip she made recently, she didn't even move it. He laughed loudly at this, which turned out to be particularly bad timing, since she was telling about when she'd hit a deer with her car.

Unfortunately, all good things end, and within hours, the date was over. Jules allowed him to walk her to the hired car - for he'd be taking a taxi, according to Marion's plans. They paused for a moment by the pier, just under a streetlamp, so that Shawn could see every detail of Juliet's laughing face. When the moment lengthened into more than one, she became quiet, opening her mouth and beginning, "Shawn, what are you -"

And this time, he kissed her. It was something incredible, because even though Shawn had kissed dozens of girls, he knew that Juliet was The One. She was perfect in so many ways, and when he kissed her, it was like escaping to another world, one of paradise and bliss. Time slowed and swirled around them, as though they were the only two people in the world in those few seconds. When they broke apart, they stared at each other, and to Shawn's surprise, Jules didn't run or yell at him. She simply smiled - actually _smiled_ - and climbed into the car, saying, "Nice try, Shawn."

Shawn grinned as the car sped away.

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><p>About an hour later, when they could be sure that the cloaked stranger that had been observing them was gone, Shawn and Jules returned to the restaurant. They found the manager in his office, who was staring at a receipt with a puzzled expression. "Oh, hello. Tom and Lindsay, right?" he greeted them, smiling jollily.<p>

"Uh, yeah. We wanted to ask who it was that was watching us, under that cloak?" Juliet asked, her most professional expression on her face.

"Well, I can't really disclose that information..." the manager told them nervously.

Juliet whipped out her police badge. "Listen here. I'm Detective Juliet O'Hara, and I want information. Who was under that cloak?"

"Oh! Oh!" the manager bumbled, seeming shocked. "Well, then, I was just looking at it. It's very strange, because usually the person in that cloak pays in cash. But today, they used a card. The name is Bridget Jones."

_Bridget Jones._ Shawn and Jules exchanged a glance. Marion. But why had she used her other name? But then again, it wasn't so odd, if she didn't want the manager to realize who she was and reveal her identity. "Okay. Thank you, sir," Shawn said, half-mockingly. He and Juliet left slowly, glancing around to check if anyone was around before heading back along the dark boardwalk to the Psych office.

Just before entering the office, Shawn turned to Juliet. "You kissed me," he stated.

"No, _you_ kissed _me_," Jules corrected, tilting her head, that crafty smile on her face. "And don't try to argue otherwise."

"You let me kiss you," Shawn pointed out, determined.

Juliet looked him straight in the eye and responded, gesturing with her hands for emphasis, "It was purely professional. We're supposed to be a recovering married couple, Shawn - you said yourself that the key is to be improving on this date. You kissed me, so I let you. But it was completely professional."

She turned and walked into the building. Shawn stood there for a moment, staring after her. Finally, he cracked a grin and followed.

It had been a pretty awesome date.

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><p>Sigh. I love the ending! It reminds me of the close-talking scene, which is one of my absolute FAVE Shules scenes. That, the end of Talk Derby to Me, and the "pretty much perfect" scene. Anyway, tell me what you think and cross your fingers for another update tomorrow! And review for that update.<p>

On the ridiculously long names of dishes: I always think it's funny when restaurants do that.


	9. Chapter 9

Okay, I got five reviews... not that they were all for chapter 8, but my swimming got canceled today, so I have time to update, and I'm probably not going to have time tomorrow, so I'll do it now. (By the way, since school is starting, you probably won't get updates Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays - my busiest days - but you may the rest of the days. And who knows? You may get updates Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays - like today.) Anyway, here's the next chapter. It's kind of exciting. I like it, anyway.

Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.

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><p>The next day, Gus was awoken by an early morning call from Lassiter. At seven A.M. On <em>Saturday.<em> "Why on earth are you calling me at seven in the morning?" Gus demanded as he picked up the phone. "I like to sleep until eight on Saturdays, get up, and take a long, relaxing bath. I do not need _you_ calling me, thank you very much. So," finally, Gus paused to take a breath, and Lassie seized the opportunity.

"Get over here, Guster," Lassie barked. "I'm at the house of Bridget Jones, and we have uncovered some serious evidence."

"Serious evidence like what? A journal? Or... possibly blood?" Gus asked nervously. It was too early in the morning for a body.

"You'll see when you get over here. It's 700 Seaside Drive. Hurry," Lassiter ordered and hung up. Grumbling, Gus got up and drove to the spacious Victorian house, without eating breakfast. Just in case.

When he got to the scene, he was glad he hadn't eaten. First of all, this was definitely not the house that he and Shawn had visited. Should he let Lassiter know? Perhaps not. Shawn would decide about that - if he made the wrong choice, it would not be held over Gus' head. No way. Secondly, what Gus saw the second he located Lassiter, was indeed a dead body.

Gus gagged at the sight - it was a human, decomposing. It was impossible to tell the gender from the state of the body. "Is that - the husband?" he choked out.

"We're not sure," Lassie replied, glancing at Gus for only a second before returning to his grave contemplation of the body. "We do know that all evidence points to Bridget Jones, since the body is in her house. We need to arrest her, but we haven't been able to reach her. Also, there are some holes we need to fill before we can arrest anyone."

"Well, isn't Juliet having a private session with Marion?" Gus asked, meeting Lassie's eyes when he realized what could happen. "But, I'm sure nothing will happen to her. Shawn's watching her, and there are a lot of things still missing. I thought we were investigating these missing women? And why would Marion - that is, Bridget, - kill her own husband?"

"You're right," Lassie responded, looking relieved. "We don't have hard evidence that Marion killed her husband, even though he's been found in her house. He was in the attic - a simple crawl space. She may not have been there since his death. Or, the killer might have known we would find the evidence pointing him here and planted the body." He paused for a moment, seemingly disgusted. "I'm sounding like Spencer. But the attic _is _airtight, so the smell didn't reach down here."

"Yeah," Gus agreed, even though he knew they were both unconvinced. Suddenly, Gus' phone began to ring. "Hello? Shawn?"

"Hey, Gus," Shawn's excited voice answered back. "Is it true that you found a dead body in Bridget's house?"

"Yes," Gus responded, then edged cautiously away from Lassie and the body, so that no one could hear. The others would just assume he didn't want to smell the body, which was true - the Super Sniffer didn't like dead bodies. "But Shawn, it's not the same house as Marion's. I didn't know what to do, so I didn't say anything. Plus, I have no way of knowing that. I'm not psychic. What should I do?"

"I don't know. We'll decide when I get there," Shawn responded, and Gus could here the sound of windshield wipers - it was raining.

"Shawn! You can't come here! You have to watch Juliet!" Gus exclaimed.

"She'll be fine, Gus," Shawn told him. "McNab and a couple other officers are watching her. She'll be fine." By the way Shawn repeated the phrase "she'll be fine," Gus realized that he wasn't convinced either.

"How did you know about the body, anyway?" Gus asked, somewhat suspicious.

"Police radio, Gus," Shawn replied, and he could hear Shawn moving something noisy in front of the phone. "Okay, I'm here."

Gus sighed as Shawn hung up and then whirled around at a tap on his shoulder. "Hi, Shawn," he said, leading his best friend to where the body was found and trying not to look at it.

"So, this is the husband," Shawn guessed.

"Actually, we don't know," Gus told him. "Apparently they can't identify him yet. It may be someone else."

"But who?" Shawn asked, making a rather good point. Then he focused on something in the corner of the room, approaching slowly and lifting up two pictures. The mantle of the fireplace was covered in images, mostly of a woman and her husband. The woman was clearly Marion, and the man had the same sandy-blonde hair as in all the other pictures. But here, Marion had red hair in each and every image. _Weird,_ Shawn thought, turning to examining the two pictures he'd picked up. Both were of two similar-looking women, one laughing, one scowling. The laughing woman was a redhead, and was undoubtably Marion. The second woman was blonde and looked kind of like Marion, but slimmer and more done-up. Something about her eyes made her look slightly more _sane,_ in fact.

Shawn pocketed one of the images, the one that was frameless, and took Gus' arm. "Let's go. We've got nothing more to do here," he announced.

"But Shawn! What about the other house?" Gus asked, pointing at Lassiter, who turned and glowered at the two of them.

Shawn faced his best friend and considered. He had thought about telling Lassie about the house of Marion Jones, as this one must be registered under Bridget Jones. But it didn't make sense. Why were there two houses? As much as his conjectures were usually just wild conclusions, this case didn't make sense at all. He didn't want to go to Lassie with no information. And it wasn't like the police would find anything useful at the other house. The only thing was the weird documents dated ten years ago, and the pictures Shawn had stolen from underneath the pillow.

"We don't have anything to tell them about the other house, Gus," Shawn hissed. "I need more on this case. I need to know more. I can't just tell them about the other house and come up with nothing."

Gus looked uncertain. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Also, I don't want my dad to kill me," Shawn added. "He wants us to come over and help him build a new table. Like he needs our help. He's just a lonely old geezer."

Gus laughed and climbed into the car, bringing them up to Henry's house. "Hello, Dad," Shawn greeted him rather unenthusiastically. "What do you want?"

"Well, here are the boards for the table. I want you, Gus, hold them together while Shawn nails," Henry ordered.

"What are you going to do?" Gus asked suspiciously.

"I'm going to cut the legs with the saw. Come on, Gus. Hurry up," Shawn's dad barked, then went over and began speaking to them, instead of cutting legs as he'd intended. "What are you working on now?"

"Um, it's a missing persons case," Shawn said vaguely.

Henry understood immediately. "The Marion case, huh? Well, then. Tell me - wait. What is that?"

Shawn shoved the picture of Marion and the other woman deeper into his pocket, which he had inadvertently shown to Henry. He brought it out reluctantly at a stern gaze from his dad. "It's a picture. That's Marion," he informed his dad, pointing at the redhead.

"No, _that's _Marion," Henry argued, pointing at the blonde woman. "And don't tell me I'm wrong, you know how I know these things, Shawn."

Shawn shook his head as he put away the picture, thinking his dad must be mistaken. After all, it had been a long time since he'd seen the woman, and Marion did used to be blonde. Henry just had to be wrong.

Except that a worming doubt remained, because Henry was right: he had been a great cop, and great cops don't forget faces like that.

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><p>It's short... but interesting. I think so, anyway. Do you? Anyone figured out what the solution is yet? Now that I'm re-reading, it seems so obvious, but maybe it's just because I know what happens. Sometimes when I re-watch Psych episodes, it seems that way, too. But review, and tell me what you think will happen! I'm interested to know...<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

It feels like so long since I've updated... But school does that to people. Anyway, here's Chapter 10. It's just getting exciting now! And thank you to all of my reviewers - I don't get the chance to respond to all of you, so don't feel like I'm not reading them. I am, and I love all the great things you're saying about my story! And to the person(s) that say(s) it seems like an actual Psych episode when they read it, thank you, because that was exactly what I was going for. So, read. Review. You know the drill.

Disclaimer: Do not own Psych.

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><p>Juliet was actually excited for her private session with Marion. Being undercover was just an <em>amazing<em> experience. She had already prepared a lot of background information about Lindsay: she was an advertising manager at General Mills, for example. Marion was waited for her, as usual, with a bubbly enthusiasm. "Hi, Lindsay!" Marion squealed.

"Hello, Marion," Jules _nearly_ squealed. "How are you?"

"I'm great," Marion beamed, and Juliet stepped back into her rational cop persona. Why was the marriage counselor even more excited than usual? It made her pause for a moment, but she shrugged it off. Maybe Marion liked private sessions, too.

"So, Lindsay, how was your date?" the other woman wondered, taking her place at her desk.

"It was perfect," Jules replied, and realized that it was actually kind of true. Even though she'd told Shawn that she'd only let him kiss her for professional reasons - which was true - she had secretly enjoyed it. Sometimes, it felt like Shawn was The One for her. He understood her perfectly, despite all his jokes and tomfoolery. But she just wasn't ready to open her heart to him. Not again.

Marion was beaming. "That's wonderful. Tell me what happened. Not everything you said and did, but how you felt about it."

_Honesty. Counselors can tell if you aren't honest, _Juliet told herself. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she began. "I feel like... Well, it was amazing. We talked more than we've talked in a long time, and it meant more than it's meant in a long time," she paused, opening her eyes slowly. That was all true. "But we couldn't really connect about the deeper issues. We couldn't discuss them. I guess I kind of pushed him away when he tried to talk about it... but Tom's good with that kind of thing. He jokes around a lot, but on the inside he's a really caring person."

Marion was nodding. "That's good. That's good."

"Yeah," Juliet continued. "And at the end, he kissed me. And... um, I guess I really wanted him to. It was pretty much perfect."

"It sounds like you really want this to be going well, and it sounds like it is," Marion told her, a frightening look on her face. Jules leaned back slightly, wondering what had inspired that expression. Had she said something wrong? But then Marion seemed to relax and spoke again. "Now, I'm sure I've told you that I had marriage problems."

Juliet nodded, a little confused. Her marriage problems had only ended when her husband had disappeared. Why was she bringing that up? "Of course, but we don't have to talk about you -" Jules began, but was cut off.

"No, no. We do have to," Marion interrupted, that maniac gleam returning to her eyes. Juliet frowned. Everything had been going really well, but now Marion seemed positively scary. "When I was about thirty-five, I had to go away a lot. For business." Hadn't Gus and Lassie said that she was repeatedly checked in to a mental clinic when she was thirty-five? "My husband was lonely, so, when I came back one time, I found him with another woman. A very close friend of mine, actually."

Juliet gasped in horror. "That's _terrible, _I can't believe -"

Marion continued as though she had never spoken. "I was very angry. I left my husband, left him with my friend. But soon I realized that I didn't want to leave my husband. So I went back and told that whore to get the hell away from him." Juliet frowned at Marion's language. She had seemed like such a soft-tempered person before. Could Shawn really be right about her? "And she left, though later I found her and apologized profusely. I couldn't blame two lonely people for wanting to find love in this world. Through many patient dates like yours, my husband and I repaired our relationship. Now, I think it's even better than before."

"Wow," Juliet responded, but her mind was reeling. _Every lie is built on a seed of truth,_ she remembered. _Which means that Marion's story can't be completely false. Maybe her husband really was cheating on her with a close friend... but then what happened to them?_ A chill spread on her back. What had Marion done?

"Yes. I know," Marion was saying. "And I don't tell you this to make you pity me, Lindsay. I'm a marriage counselor, not someone in need of counseling myself. No, I want to show you how horribly things can go wrong in a relationship, and still be fixed. It gives people hope to know that their relationships are not broken beyond repair as they think."

"Oh, no, I don't think my marriage is that broken, Marion," Jules disagreed. "In fact, I think I can fix it."

"Aha," Marion exclaimed, startling Juliet. "That's one of your problems. You think _you_ can fix it. You don't want that. You should say 'I think _we_ can fix it.' Marriage is a team effort, Lindsay. You should never think it's all on your side."

"Yeah," Juliet sighed. "But sometimes it seems like Tom doesn't want to be part of the team."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Marion encouraged her. "Tom is very caring. I can tell he really wants to fix your marriage, but he, like you, thinks he can do it on his own. You and Tom need to understand that you need each other. Understanding. Respect. You two need to work on these things."

"Yeah," Jules agreed, but just then, her phone began to chime. "Oh, can I take this?" It was Shawn.

"Sure, sure," Marion trilled cheerily.

"Oh, Shawn," Jules exclaimed when she exited the office. "Okay, so I found out something new."

"Great. What?" Shawn asked.

"Well, you go first. You obviously called to tell me something," she prodded.

Shawn hesitated for a moment, then told her, "I'm actually at my dad's. But don't worry, McNab and some other officers are keeping watch one you. I just wanted to let you know."

"Okay," Juliet agreed, not minding at all. It wasn't like she _wanted_ Shawn to waste his morning watching over her. "Okay, so Marion told me some really interesting things. Apparently, her husband was cheating on her with a close friend, while she was at the mental clinic. And she says she fixed her relationship, which is obviously a lie, but she's probably not lying about the friend. Shawn, do you know anything about that?"

"Oh, Jules!" Shawn exclaimed, sounding extremely excited. "Of course! It's not the husband, it's the friend. Then the other house is where... where..."

Before Juliet could ask what he was talking about, Marion poked her head out. "Lindsay?"

"Oh, Shawn, I have to go," Juliet said into the phone, snapping it shut. "Sorry. That was my friend Shawn."

"A nice friend, to call you when you have an appointment," Marion commented, but she wasn't laughing. "Well, I think we're about done."

"Already?" Juliet asked, surprised, turning to pick up her handbag.

"Leave that," Marion snapped. Jules whirled around, stunned at the harshness of her tone.

"What are you -" Juliet began, then stopped.

It took an awfully long time for her eyes to travel from the gun in Marion's hand to her wide, eerie grin.

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><p>Hehehe. Yes, Jules gets taken... but of course she does; what fun would it be if we didn't get to see our favorite female detective in action? Review to see what happens next! You may even get another update tomorrow if I get enough reviews and if I have time... Calculus 2 is tough. You never know how long it will take. But hopefully, I'll have time to post!<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry I haven't updated until now, but here's Chapter 11. I've been so busy this weekend I haven't had time to update! You guys did review plenty, although this time maybe we can get even more? You have no idea how amazing the reviews are, especially for this fanfiction. So now, to Red Pen Ninja: here's where Shawn is when you need him.

Disclaimer: Don't own Psych.

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><p><em>Of course, <em>Shawn thought, ignoring the shouts of Gus and his dad as he sped away on his motorcycle. He could only think of Jules. Something bad had happened to her, he was sure. Marion was the killer - of her close friend. He still wasn't sure what had happened to her husband, but he thought he knew what had happened. Marion had left her husband and went to live in the abandoned house, and she had killed her close friend for having an affair with her husband and stuffed her in the attic.

_Maybe she tried to show her husband how much she loved him by killing her,_ Shawn pondered, trying to fit the pieces together. And then the close friend would be the blonde girl, and she would be taking the blonde women - where? - to kill them, to recreate her first kill, as profilers always said.

How could he have taken so long to put this together? Marion was obviously crazy. And Shawn had fallen for it, and now Jules may be hurt because of it. His heart was racing as he swerved into the parking lot of Marion's. "McNab! Where's Jules?" Shawn demanded of the officer.

"She left," McNab answered, evidently surprised. "Why?"

Shawn swore under his breath and ran over to the squad car. "How did she go? Was she with Marion?"

"Yeah, she was," McNab told him. "But she talked to me. She said it was okay to leave, because she was going to drive Marion home and then go home."

He paused for a moment. Was this some kind of ploy? "What exactly did she say, Buzz?" Shawn queried. "Exact words."

"Gee, I don't remember exactly..." McNab faltered under Shawn's gaze.

"Detectives need good memories, Buzz. If you ever want to make detective, you need to work on that," Shawn informed him. "Can you tell me something like what Jules said?"

"Well," Buzz began, then strengthened. "Detective O'Hara said something like, 'You can go home, McNab. I'm not going to need you anymore. But thanks for everything you've done for me. Tell Shawn not to beat himself up about this, because I know he was right to leave me and go investigate the scene. And tell Lassiter that he should keep working on this case today, because he's a great detective. I'm just going to drop Marion off, and then go home. Okay?'"

"That was pretty much word for word," Shawn muttered, but his heart wasn't in it. "Thanks, Buzz. Good work. But I have one question. Who got in the driver's side?"

"Yeah, I did think that was weird. It was Marion," Buzz said. "Oh, you don't think -"

But Shawn was already moving. He didn't like the sound of Juliet's "last words." It sounded like she was saying things she would say if she wouldn't see them again. _Except hopefully, that will include "Tell Shawn I love him," _Shawn couldn't help but thinking. He kept wondering what would have happened if he would've stayed, instead of going to the crime scene. Now, the dead body seemed like an unimportant detail. And now, Juliet was _gone._

"Hello, Sheryl," Shawn greeted the receptionist, who was packing to leave, since Juliet had been the day's only appointment. "Did you see, um, Lindsay leave? Was she with Marion? What did they say? What exactly happened?"

Sheryl looked at him oddly. "Um, hi, Tom. Nice of you to come by and see me."

"Answer the question," Shawn barked, a pained expression on his face. He knew he was being far too serious, but how could he be lighthearted when Juliet might be gone forever? With him never once telling her exactly how much he really loved her?

Sheryl frowned at him. "Well, then, Mr. Sunshine. Lindsay and Marion exited the office together. They were walking close together, like friends, but they weren't saying anything. All they said, that I heard, was Marion saying, 'You'll make a beautiful sister.' I thought she meant that Lindsay was going to be a sister-in-law to somebody, or something."

Shawn contemplated this. On one hand, it was a rather odd thing to say, but Juliet was famous for getting to "into it" when she went undercover. She could have made up a little detail, like that she had a brother that was getting married, or a sister getting married. It might even be true, he realized, as he didn't really know too much and Juliet's family. Was it possible that Marion and Jules were really just being friendly?

And then there was the fact that Marion had let Juliet talk to McNab. Why would she let her do that, if she was abducting her? Perhaps she'd listened in, trying to make sure that Jules was saying nothing. _And Jules could easily overpower Marion, _Shawn realized.

No, it had been a ridiculous notion. Juliet was probably just fine. Maybe Marion was just one of those over-obsessive people that hated to be driven around by others. It would fit with her whole mental-issue/possible-anxiety-disorder. _Juliet is just fine,_ Shawn repeated to himself, over and over until in became a mantra, pulsing through his head with each beat of his heart. _Just fine. Just fine. Juliet is just fine. She's just fine. Fine. Just fine. Jules is fine. Just fine,_ his brain said, but his heart didn't agree.

"Pineapple smoothies," Shawn muttered to himself as he climbed onto his motorcycle, trying to think of things that would calm him. "Pumpkin Cheesecake with White Chocolate Creme." Which, come to think of it, he still hadn't tried, on account that he and Jules had been too full for desert - a rare occurrence for Shawn. Or maybe he'd been too full of Jules - a thought which should have been a rare occurrence for Shawn, but oddly enough, was becoming quite common. "Doritoes. Pineapple pizza." Somehow, nothing was working. Despite all his efforts, despite the fact that everything made it seem like Juliet was _just fine_, he couldn't calm down.

His dad was going to kill him for ditching the project, so there was no point in going back there. Shawn veered onto another street, unconsciously moving towards the SBPD's building. When he reached the entrance, however, he teetered on the brink of entering, seeing Gus and Lassie's cars parked in front. Suddenly, he didn't feel like going inside, to all those faces that really believed that Jules was perfectly okay. _But she is,_ he told himself, to no avail.

He could go in and play a prank on Lassie... Shawn had been planning a particularly good one involving Lassie's hair and a real cake mold. Somehow, it didn't seem like such a great idea anymore. He was about to get back on his motorcycle when Gus walked out of the police station, and promptly spotted him. "Shawn!" Gus called. "What happened?"

"It's Jules," Shawn began heavily.

"Oh, no," Gus exclaimed. "Is she okay?"

Shawn sighed. "Well, I don't really know. It _seems_ like she just left Marion's and went home. But there are some weird things - she talked to Buzz, and the way Buzz said what she said, it sounds like she thinks she's never going to see us again. And then Marion drove her car away..."

Gus seemed concerned, but then shook his head. "She's fine, Shawn," he told his best friend, trying to squeeze as much false confidence into his voice as he could. "Marion's just one of those weird people that won't let other people drive, or maybe Marion's taking her somewhere for their session, and she didn't want to let Buzz know. Juliet is a grown woman, Shawn. She'll be fine."

"Yeah," Shawn agreed half-heartedly. It was impossible to tell which of them was more uncertain.

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><p>But we all know Jules isn't fine... so what's happening with her? Review and find out, hopefully tomorrow. I doubt I'll have THAT much homework... By the way, I realize this one's short, but the next one isn't quite this short. I think this might be the shortest chapter, mostly because there's not much going on, except Shawn worrying (uncharacteristically, I know, but we all know that Shawn would worry about Jules). REVIEW!<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

Okay... You guys hate me. I get that. And I'm sorry that I haven't updated, especially since I've gotten a lot of reviews, but I've been so busy! I was super busy over the weekend, and this week has been just CRAZY. So here you go... This note doesn't give you much of an explanation because my friend is sitting here and reading what I'm writing... So here's chapter 12.

Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.

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><p>The next thing Juliet could remember, after a long and painful car ride, was waking up in a dingy old motel room, with three other women peering at her, and something very heavy around her neck. "Ugh," she groaned, unable to create anything more complex with her mouth. Her head felt as though it had been hit with a brick or something; her brain was confused mush. She tried to sit up, but found herself falling backwards again, back into a bleary unconsciousness.<p>

When she awoke again, she was propped up on a sofa, another woman pressing a cold, damp rag against her forehead. "Oh, thank the Lord you're okay," the woman exclaimed, her startlingly green eyes wide. "We thought she'd killed you. It's already Monday! You've been out since Saturday!" She positioned herself more comfortably. "Who are you?"

"I'm... Detective Juliet O'Hara," Jules moaned. "Who are you? Wait, you're the three missing women? What happened? Do we have phones? What's on my neck?"

One of the other women laughed humorlessly. "Honey, Detective or whatever you are, you must've hit your head really hard. If we had phones, do you really think we'd still be here?" she said. Juliet turned her head slightly. This woman had more of honey-colored hair and hazel eyes, and was extraordinarily beautiful. _Oh, yeah,_ Jules remembered from the case file. _This is Melissa Truman, the small-time model. And then the one with the rag is Adrienne Price, and the third woman, with the white braids, is Beatrice Worthing._

"Right, Marion took our phones," Juliet guessed. "So what happened? Beatrice, you were first... Why are we still stuck here? What's keeping us here?"

"Well, I got here four weeks ago," Beatrice told her. "Marion comes here every day and gives us food - just enough so that we won't starve. And we're kept here by an electric fence."

"Wait, what?" Juliet interrupted. "What do you mean, electric fence?"

"The crazy bitch has actually padlocked metal things with the kinds of collars that dogs wear around our necks and buried an invisible fence with voltage turned way up by the door and windows," Melissa responded bitterly. Jules sat up. This was way weirder than anything she'd expected.

"But why? What is her motive?" Juliet muttered to herself.

"Well, we know that all our marriage counseling was going well," Adrienne cut in. "We all had a successful dates at that restaurant. And we know that we were all kidnapped after our private session on Saturday. How about you?"

"Same," Jules replied. "Except that I wasn't actually getting marriage counseling. Me and, um, a friend, were undercover as a couple to figure out your case. Then it got into her own marriage..." The answer was right there. Right there. But what was she missing? "I think..." she closed her eyes to think better. "I think Marion's husband was cheating on her, and she killed the girl he was cheating with, and now she's trying to recreate her first kill. Which means the body must be here somewhere..."

"She's going to kill us all?" Beatrice exclaimed.

At the exact same moment, Melissa let out a derisive laugh and remarked, "You were undercover and you knew the bitch was crazy, but you still couldn't catch her? Unbelievable. Unbelievable."

Juliet rounded angrily on Melissa. "Look, we didn't know anything. How was I supposed to figure out that she was crazy? I see you didn't figure it out, either, smart one," she snapped.

"Whoa, whoa, easy," Melissa said, throwing her hands up and sighing. "I guess I'm just... sick of this. And I'm not about to cry because I'm probably gonna be killed in a freaking motel room. This is my way of coping, so deal, Juliet? By the way, who's Romeo?"

Jules closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "Okay," she told them when she opened her eyes. "We need to find this body. What have you been doing all this time, anyway?"

Melissa looked like she was about to launch some snappy retort, but Adrienne spoke first. "We've basically been talking. We know each others' life stories now," she informed Juliet sadly. "But there's nowhere where a body could be, Juliet. We've looked everywhere. Even if she did kill her friend here, she must've taken the body somewhere else. We've literally searched everywhere, trying to find a way out."

Juliet sat back, disappointed. "My gun was in my handbag," she told them, disheartened.

Melissa looked interested. "You have a gun?"

"Well, of course," Jules responded, realizing she wasn't used to people not knowing about her being a cop, or about what she did as one. "Yeah. But none of that matters now, does it? What we did when we were - alive? Now what matters is what we didn't do..." _Like tell Shawn how I felt, again. Like tell him that I really did like that kiss and that it wasn't just for work._

"You look like someone with a lot of regrets," Beatrice observed. "But don't we all. I know I've already told this to these two, but I should've told my husband I loved him. I just... I was so stupid, thinking that I had to be better than him." When Juliet appeared confused, she added, "He cheated on me."

"Oh," Juliet responded softy, then remembered something else. "Have you tried digging up the fence?"

"Of course," Melissa answered. "Marion didn't leave anything sharp or metal in the room, including the bed frame, so we ripped up the sofa and used one of the wooden bars to rip up the carpet. But that crazy bitch put concrete over it. _Concrete._"

"Wow," Juliet exclaimed, stunned. How had she never figured out how crazy Marion was? This was such an elaborate plot... Her heart felt torn. Would Shawn be able to figure it out? Would he come for her? Half of her wanted him to come and take her away from the ashes on his white stallion, but the other half still stood firm and professional. _Why can't I just decide?_ she begged, looking imploringly up at the ceiling, where God would, presumably, be.

Then she noticed how the ceiling tiles were shifted slightly, so that in one place, one was sinking down, while the one next to it stuck up. "Juliet? What's wrong?" Beatrice asked, concerned, as Jules stood up and climbed onto the mattress. Unfortunately, she still couldn't reach the ceiling. Her eyes roamed around the room, until they lighted on the small couch.

"Here, Adrienne, Beatrice," Jules commanded, moving towards the couch. "Let's take this and put it on the mattress."

"Why?" Adrienne asked curiously, but did what she was told. Soon, the couch was on the mattress, but Juliet still couldn't quite reach the ceiling, or at least, she couldn't push up on the ceiling tile.

"Melissa," Juliet said, since the model was the tallest of them all. "Can you come here and push up on that tile?"

Melissa sauntered over, an interested look on her face. "Why?" she queried, repeating Adrienne's words.

"I think there's something up there," Jules told the others, watching anxiously as Melissa clambered onto the couch and pressed lightly on the tile she'd indicated.

"What is 'something,' Juliet? Do you mean the - Ah!" Melissa screamed, tumbling backward.

For where Melissa had pushed aside one of the tiles, something heavy had rolled over so that "something's" head was clearly visible in the whole. Juliet had been right. Now, all four women stood cowering against the wall, staring at a badly decomposing body. From the clothes, it was possible to tell that the body belonged to a woman. And this body proved everything - for hanging from the head was a mane of blond hair, uneven and chopped in some places.

Just then, all four frightened women turned towards the door. In that direction, they could distinctly hear the sound of a car approaching, and then pattering footsteps, and as the knob began to turn on the door, there was a flurry of movement inside the motel room, so as the person - or people? - on the other side of the door entered, there was no longer a body hanging from the ceiling, but four very injured women sitting on the mattress, only slightly whitened from the ceiling dust.

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><p>Hehe. It's creepy. Review and hopefully I'll have time to update again this weekend. Probably. I'm not as busy this time... I think.<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

*GASP* I'm updating two days in a row! I wasn't going to, but I got all these awesome reviews, so I just had to. I'm kind of sad... There are only two chapters left, not counting this one. So this will be the first fanficition that I've ever finished. Oh, it has been a beautiful run. And I think I'm going to start a new Psych Fic, involving a receptionist, possibly. And some kind of delicious food... By the way, you people need to try Godiva's Pumpkin Cheesecake truffles. They are amazing. Amazing, like bites of heaven. Literally.

Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.

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><p>Shawn and Gus were feasting - a Monday morning tradition - on a new creation at the local bakery - pineapple-caramel danishes - when Shawn's iPhone began to ring, mysteriously muffled. "Where's my phone, Gus?" Shawn asked, when he had patted all his pockets to no avail.<p>

"How am I supposed to know, Shawn?" Gus wondered, sipping on his delicious mocha, which was at just the right temperature for drinking, and therefore he couldn't pause this activity without wasting perfectly good coffee.

Shawn grumbled, digging around in his pockets for the second time. "I don't know," he admitted.

"You're the 'psychic,' remember?" Gus added snidely. Just then, he made a waving motion with his hand. "Shawn! How on earth did your phone end up in the jar of sugar?"

"Oh, yeah," Shawn remembered. "I was trying to see if it could fit." He twirled the jar to see who was calling. "It's Lassie. I should pick up. Now how do I get it out without spilling any sugar?"

Gus snorted impatiently while Shawn was considering this dilemma and unscrewed the jar, sliding the bar across the screen at the very last second. "Lassiter?" Gus spoke into the phone.

"Guster! What took you so long?" Lassie practically snarled. "Wait. Don't answer that. I don't want to know. Where are you? No, I don't want to know that either. Is O'Hara with you?"

"No," Gus responded, confused. "Why would Juliet be with us? Isn't she at the station?"

At the mention of Juliet's name, Shawn snatched the phone away from Gus and spoke urgently. "What's wrong, Lassie? Where's Jules?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be calling you," Lassie replied irritably.

"Oh, no," Shawn groaned. "Okay, we'll be there in ten. No, just kidding. We'll be there in five. Don't move!"

Four minutes and fifty-five seconds later, Shawn and Gus sped into the police station parking lot, where Lassie was waiting for them. "What is it, Spencer? O'Hara could have slept in," Lassie told them, quite rationally.

"No, no," said Shawn, who had been beating himself up ever since Lassie had called. "Marion's taken her. I know it." When Lassiter and Gus showed all signs of interrupting, Shawn continued. "Look at the facts, Lassie. Like the other women, her 'marriage' was improving. She's blonde. She disappeared between six and eight A.M. on the fourth consecutive Saturday."

Lassiter looked worried when Shawn put things into this perspective. "Let's go to O'Hara's house and make sure. We can't be certain that anything's wrong," he assured them, but he wasn't very convinced. "I'm driving."

Gus began to argue, but this time, it was Shawn who interrupted. "Gus, don't be a - sweet holy pineapple. I'm blanking. This never happens," Shawn exclaimed. "Gus, help me. No, don't. This is Jules we're talking about. I don't care who the hell drives, just somebody, go. This is _Jules_," he repeated, as though he hadn't made himself clear.

"Alright," Gus relented. "Lassiter, you can drive. Let's go." Lassie turned his sirens on and sped to Juliet's house, which, unfortunately, looked abandoned. Shawn ran up, seized with fear, and beat on the door as hard as he could.

"Jules! Jules! Juliet, open up! Jules, are you there?" Shawn shouted, but there was no response. Meanwhile, Lassie had found the garage door slightly open, and pulled it up. Shawn gave up on the door and sprinted to see what was inside.

Juliet's car - like those of all the other women - was gone.

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><p>"Well, Spencer, the DNA results on the body came in," Lassie told them dejectedly as they sat in Chief Vick's office. "It was definitely the husband. Your hunch must've been wrong." Shawn sighed. He had had a psychic vision about the body being that of the close friend, but apparently, he'd been wrong about the whole thing. Now, he was more clueless than ever. All he knew was that Juliet was gone.<p>

The chief looked at each of the three of them with concerned eyes. "I don't know what to tell you, Detective, Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster. Do you really have no leads on this case?"

"Wait a minute." To everyone's surprise, it was Gus that had spoken. "Lassiter, didn't we find out that Marion - that is, Bridget, - had a twin sister?"

"A twin sister?" Shawn repeated, shocked. It all made sense now. "I'm getting something. Another house... belonging to Marion Jones. A different house. Everything there is from ten years ago."

"Mr. Spencer, are you sure?" Chief Vick queried. "Are you absolutely positive about this?"

"Yes, Chief," Shawn responded. "As absolutely positive as I am that tight pants will someday come back to haunt us." This earned odd looks, but Shawn didn't care. "The address is... um... Gus, what is that dog you really like?"

"German Shepard?" Gus suggested.

"Yes! Yes! It's... 1560 Germain Boulevard!" Shawn exclaimed, including all the necessary theatrics.

"Okay, Mr. Spencer," Chief Vick agreed, still looking uncertain. "But you had better be right about this."

The house of Marion Jones looked just as it had the day Shawn and Gus had visited. Lassie and Chief Vick wasted some time with the front door, but eventually, the detective, the chief, Shawn, Gus, and four other officers found themselves inside the long-abandoned house. "What are we looking for here, Spencer?" Lassie asked. "I mean, I agree that this is all very weird, but O'Hara is obviously not here."

"Anything. Anything that might give us a clue to where Jules is," Shawn told them, scanning the tables, but they were only covered in documents. Suddenly, he spotted something - a motel key thrown hastily under the couch, as though somebody were trying to hide it. "Aha!" he exclaimed, pulling it out. "The Santa Barbara Otter Cove motel, room 34. Does that mean anything to anyone? Lassie?"

"Yes, yes," Chief Vick broke in suddenly, her crafty look on her face. "I've stayed there before, but it's been shut down for years. About ten years, to be exact."

"Well, Chief, I'm getting strong vibes that Juliet is at this location," he informed everyone in the room. It made sense. If that was where her first kill had been...

Everyone seemed frozen, unsure of what to do, until Chief Vick broke the silence. "Well, what are we waiting for? One of our own's life is on the line here. If Mr. Spencer says she's there, then I believe him."

"Thank you, Chief," Shawn said humbly as they zoomed out in Lassie's car.

"Don't get too comfortable, Mr. Spencer," Chief Vick told him, but smiled. "Come on, Lassiter. Give this some gas. We need to find O'Hara."

It was Shawn that unlocked the motel room when they arrived, after what seemed like ages. It was Lassiter that lifted his gun and aimed carefully, and it was Gus and Chief Vick whose voices shouted, "Freeze."

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><p>Aw, sweet. Well, one more real chapter, then the epilogue! Please send me encouragement on the whole staring-a-new-fic thing, because since I'm so busy, I probably shouldn't, but if I get enough people telling me that I should, then I will. And I'll try to make it as good as this one... So please review and tell me what you think!<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

Okay, super busy week. Don't think the non-updating was because of you, because you guys are literally awesome. Here's the last REAL chapter, the next one's just the epilogue. It makes me sad. I know I said I would try starting a new Psych fic, but I haven't had the time. Maybe after I'm done with one of my other fanfictions - put me on author alerts, and I PROMISE you'll get something. In the next few weeks, I think. That last parts not part of the promise, LOLZ. I have this idea, involving a receptionist, much Shules, and something multicultural, but I'm not positive. What do you think?

Disclaimer: Don't own Psych.

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><p>Juliet's grin seemed to light up the whole room when she saw Shawn, Gus, Carlton, and Chief Vick crash through the door. When Marion had come, she had been certain that she was there to kill them. Thankfully, Jules' friends had arrived just seconds later, Shawn stepping out from amid the throng with his most mysterious expression on.<p>

"Marion Jones," Shawn began. "But no, you're Bridget Jones. Your sister's name was Marion Jones."

"Tom?" Bridget whispered hoarsely, eyes large and pleading. "No! You have to believe me. I was trying to help."

"Get away from me, psycho," Shawn told her, repulsed. "You! You, Bridget, were always the crazy one. You hated your sister, a smart girl who went through and got a degree in psychology, becoming a marriage counselor and forming her own agency. The only thing you had that she didn't was a husband, and you loved that."

Shawn paused for dramatic effect, then continued. "But when you were thirty-five, you had to be checked into a mental hospital, because whatever you have was getting dangerous. Your husband began an affair with your pretty, intelligent sister, who was so, so much more deserving of him than you were. And you found out, and that's when your illness kicked in. You found out when your sister and your husband were meeting at this old motel, to sneak around behind your back."

"Wait," Lassie interrupted. "What does this motel have to do with anything?"

"Really, Lassie? Really?" Shawn complained, hating to be interrupted.

"Sorry. Continue," Lassie told him.

"Thank you. So, you, Bridget, went to this motel and found your sister Marion. It was here that you murdered her and stuffed her body -" Juliet met his eyes and jerked her head up at the ceiling. Shawn mouthed, _Thank you_, and continued. "You stuffed her body in the ceiling. Then you somehow convinced your husband not to come here, went home, and murdered him, too."

"What about the hair you found in her desk?" Gus queried, looking repulsed.

"Really, Gus?" Shawn snapped, shutting his best friend up. "The hair was just, you know, because she's completely crazy. Anyway, you panicked, Bridget, when you came back to yourself, and you tried to hide the evidence. You bought a plane ticket to the Democratic Republic of the Congo for your husband and reported him missing a week later. You took the key to this motel and made copies that looked like any other key for yourself, and hid the labeled key in your sister Marion's house." Shawn paused again, preparing to go into the rest of his rant. Juliet's eyes were shining. That was all that mattered, at that moment.

"You then posed as your sister, using the fact that you looked pretty much similar. Nobody missed you, because you had been in a mental clinic. Your friends had all abandoned you, and you didn't want to go back to them, either, did you, Bridget? They betrayed you. They left you. All you could do was become your sister, with her nearly perfect life," he explained. "It took you an awfully long time to begin to yearn for more revenge, to try and torture your sister. But your sister was already dead - you couldn't do anything to her. So you came up with an elaborate plot to kill other women in her place, and probably torture them as you think that your sister should've been tortured, for what she did to you."

"So you took a blond client and set her up on the famous date to Jacques' - a date you and your husband had gone on after you found out that he was cheating, which had not gone well. You envied each and every client whose date went well, so you took one of these and shut her up here," Shawn announced. "First, it was Beatrice." He pointed at the woman, who looked scared. The others varied from amused (Melissa) to repulsed (Adrienne). "You took her here and enjoyed it so much that you kept on doing it, over and over. You enjoyed it, didn't you?"

"I-I don't k-know what you're talking about," Bridget stuttered, appearing to be frightened.

"Yes, you do," Shawn said softly, moving closer. "You hated her, didn't you? She was almost perfect. She was smarter than you... prettier than you... and your husband loved her more than you, because who would look at you, the crazy, uneducated loser, next to Marion Jones, the beautiful, intelligent -"

"She wasn't all they cracked her up to be!" Bridget exclaimed, quivering with rage. "I was so much better than her! They all thought she was some kind of angel... They all thought she was so _perfect!_ I had to do it! I had to get rid of her, get rid of them! And I did enjoy it. It was fun to be the one that got rid of her, once and for all."

Lassiter and Juliet moved forward simultaneously at this confession, Lassie cuffing the woman while Jules recited, "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court." But Shawn wasn't listening to the rest of her words. He could only be happy that they had saved her, that she was okay. How had he been so stupid and left her alone? It was the zillionth time he'd thought that over those past days, for he had known that if anything were to happen to Jules he could never have forgiven himself.

"I hope you rot in hell, bitch," Melissa called as Lassie led Bridget outside. Chief Vick led the abducted women out, promising to provide them with food after they took their statements for the case. Gus ran outside, probably because the other officers were hauling out the real Marion's body. Finally, it was just Shawn and Jules, standing in the middle of the motel room.

"Thanks for the tip about the ceiling. I owe you one," Shawn said, because suddenly, it seemed like someone had squeezed all the air out of his lungs, and quite possibly, his brain.

"No problem," Jules replied, smiling. "Honestly, since you rescued me, I think that if one of us owes the other one something, it'd be me owing you."

"So, if you owe me something, can I cash it in right now?" Shawn wondered, moving closer to her. Thankfully, she didn't move away.

"I don't know," Juliet murmured. "What did you have in mind?"

"How about this?" Shawn asked, closing the space between them with one step and kissing her on the lips. This time, she was kissing him, too, and for the first time, Shawn didn't care what kind of kisser the girl was - because this was Jules, and she was the only girl he had ever really loved.

"I'm pretty sure we're even now," Juliet whispered when they broke apart.

"I'm pretty sure you owe me a date," Shawn whispered back, his face in her hair, which smelled really nice.

Jules smiled up at him. "I'm not so sure about that one, but I think I'll let it slide. Just this once."

"Just this once?" Shawn wondered teasingly, and kissed her again, suddenly not caring if the world knew how much he loved her. If he had ever cared at all...

"Well..." Jules laughed, her eyes sparkling brilliantly. "I guess I could let that one slide, too." And then, she was the one who kissed him, not even caring that they were in an old motel room which had been previously occupied by a ten-years-decomposed body.

Because with Shawn and Jules, how could that ever matter?

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><p>...for the record, I did not plan on Shawn and Jules kissing here. Was it a good idea? I don't know. You tell me. No, seriously, tell me, because I really want to know what you think about that. I'm... going to go start trying to write that other fic. Although I really should be working on one of my HP fics, since I'm WAAAAAY behind on those... REVIEW AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THE ENDING! And if you want that other fic and the epilogue soon...<p> 


	15. Epilogue

Well, here it is, the epilogue! And yes, I do feel sad as I click the "Complete" button. But luckily... I've published the first chapter of my new fanfiction for the Psych fandom. Check it out, it's called Monasteries, Wines, and Other Such Troubles. I'm excited about it! Anyway, here you go!

Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.

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><p>Jules did hold her word about the date, however, so now the two of them were strolling along the boardwalk, hand in hand, licking ice cream cones. Shawn's, naturally, was pineapple-flavored. "So Gus and I finally got to taste the Pumpkin Cheesecake with Two Layers of White Chocolate," Shawn announced, obviously proud of this.<p>

"Wow, Shawn," Juliet laughed. What was so funny about that comment? Shawn frowned, confused. She shook her head when she realized he didn't understand. "Was it good?"

"Yes, it was like light, feathery, pumpkin-y heaven," Shawn responded, earning another shining grin from his new girlfriend.

"Oh, Shawn," Jules responded. "I like you."

"That all?" Shawn joked.

"You really want me to tell you that I love you?" Juliet asked, surprising him with her forwardness.

"Well, you don't have to, I mean, I was -" Shawn stuttered, at a loss for words, for once.

"I was kidding," Jules amended hastily, turning her face away from him a little sadly. Where had the courage she'd found during her kidnapping gone?

"But I wasn't," Shawn whispered. "I love you, Juliet."

"I love you, too," Jules replied, before she could hesitate. It felt amazing to finally be able to say that, especially as Shawn kissed her like he'd never kissed her before, like someone who knows he will never be able to get enough of something. She closed her eyes until a tourist came up to them and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Can you go somewhere else? You're ruining our shot of the sunset," the tourist explained snobbishly, pointing at the swirling magentas, oranges, and pinks behind them.

"Oh, sorry," Jules said quickly, allowing Shawn to lead her to the Psych office, where they started laughing. After a while, the conversation turned to the recent case, for, although Jules didn't like to discuss it, she had been speaking with the other women she'd met, and their marriages were turning out either amazing of catastrophic.

"Wait, so one of them is divorcing her husband _because _of the abduction?" Shawn asked.

"Yep," Juliet responded. "Melissa says that while she was being held, she realized she didn't even need her husband, so she says she's 'dropping the accessory.'" Shawn snorted. Some people were just weird. "But Beatrice's husband was incredibly worried, so now they're better than ever. And Adrienne is okay, too. Her husband is being really nice, so she says that although it may be a lie, for which the Lord won't forgive her, she's acting a bit more shaken than she is."

"Some people." Shawn shook his head.

"I'm pretty sure you fall under the category of 'some people,'" Juliet noted.

"Why would you say that?" Shawn asked, offended. "Hey! Is that the phone?" he asked suddenly, pointing at a blinking light that seemed to be coming from the crack between the floorboards. "Yeah, it is!" he discovered, pulling up a loose board and extracting a very dusty phone.

"Why was it there?" Juliet asked curiously.

"Oh, I remember now. I put it there because then it wouldn't waste battery so quickly. In the dark, you know," Shawn explained.

"Another way to solve that problem is to put it on the charger," Jules pointed out, and then began laughing.

"What's so funny?" Shawn asked suspiciously. "What?" But Juliet wouldn't stop laughing, so he tickled her until she fell over, at which point the tickling turned to kissing, something that neither of them was willing to stop.

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><p>Awwww. Don't we love our Shules. Hope you've enjoyed the ride with this one, and hopefully you'll check out Monasteries, Wines, and Other Such Troubles. Thanks so much for reading! You guys have really been great. =) Even if I didn't get the chance to respond to all your awesome reviews, just know that I appreciated them a lot. Thanks!<p> 


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